Driven
by lookingdown
Summary: The long wheelbase XJ Jaguar speeds down the road. Like it owns it. The car. You. And the passenger. In the back. Asleep.
1. Chapter 1

The long wheelbase XJ Jaguar speeds down the road. Like it owns it. The car. You. And the passenger. In the back. Asleep.

You have the control of everything. And you're one of the best. The sound of the motor. The tires on the road. Your fingers gripped on the wheel. Slowly tapping to an imaginary rhythm. There is no sound. No radio. Just the silence of the car. The silence of the night. It's deafening. Loud. And smooth at the same time. So smooth.

You wish it could last. You wish you weren't reaching your destination so soon. But the night has been long. And you know the passenger in the back sit is tired. The faster you'll be arriving, the best it would be. So you're doing it. Speed up to the limits. Maybe more. A lot more. And you have the flash of it. You could end it here. Right now. If you wanted to.

The gate opens and less than a minute later, you're parked in front of the mansion. The exterior house lights are on. At this hour, the villa seems less impressive. Almost familiar. Even if it has only been three days. And nights. Mostly.

"Doctor Isles."

"Hum…?"

"Here we are. You're home."

"Oh. Oh, okay. Thank you. Have a good night."

"Wait." You get up quickly from the front seat and goes around the car to open the door before asking : "At what time should I be here tomorrow ?"

"Excuse me ?" The voice is still a bit sleepy.

"What time do you want me to come pick you with the car ?"

"Ah, yes. Sorry. Eight would be fine. Thank you again."

"You're welcome Doctor. See you tomorrow."

And with that, your passenger is already in the house.

You restart the car. Off to the garage. Full of cars. A whole house. Vintage. New. American. Sport. Family cars. European. Twenty two of them.

Back in your car. Not the same. At all. But still another wheel. Another motor. Same skills. Different universe. There is a wrinkle on your suit sleeve. You absently try to pull it knowing it won't do anything. As you're leaving the propriety, you see Elison in the inside mirror, waving at you.

By the time you're in your apartment you look at your phone. 3:37 am. Not so much for the long night. You're going to change for shorts and t-shirt, you drop your suit on the floor as you walk to the bathroom. The tie. The vest. The gloves. The pants. You don't care. Tomorrow you'll be wearing another one. It's not like there is anything different than suits to wear in your closet anyway.

* * *

You slept three hours. But you don't have time to think about that right now. Three hours. That's it. And it's better than some nights.

At 7:30 you're already on the road. The day is rising but the weather is foggy. Clouds are low. Grey. You wish you could remember their exact color in this light. Take everything you can. Look. Observe. And remember. Try to remember. The colors. The light. The sun.

You're driving without thinking of it. First, second, third. You control the speed, the trajectory, the flexibility of your arms. Your eyes are on the road and you feel untouchable. You can do anything. Right here. Behind the wheel. Your life is complete. There is nothing but you and the engine.

Same gate, same opening as a few hours ago. You park your car in the garage. Taking the Jaguar, you drive toward the house. You leave it in front of the villa and Elison open the main door to great you in.

"I think Doctor Isles will be ready in few minutes. Would you like a coffee ?"

"Yeah, sure."

You walk to the kitchen. And before you know it, Carol is handing you a mug. Hot. Very hot. But you take it. "Thanks Carol."

You wait. The smell is everywhere. It's so good it even make you smile a little. And then you start to drink the hot beverage. It's comforting. It's the real start of your day. Not five minutes later you hear the very distinctive click of heels on the floor. And then, her voice :

"Carol, could you please do me a green tea to go ?"

"Yes Madam, of course."

"Thank you."

Carol comes to you, takes the mug off your hand and before you can even protest, she's telling you : "I'll better put that into a traveling cup for you as well."

So very thoughtful.

* * *

You've taken the same car as yesterday. The driving is the same pleasure. In its way, it helps you relax. Even if you're careful of everything. Years of practice have given you some confidence. But not always. You know better than everyone that you can't count on that only. You have to be focused.

This is your job now. This is your new responsibility. Doctor Isles.

You pull the car in the parking lot. Downstairs. Fifth floor. Private parking. You stop the car in front of the elevator door and switch off. Quickly jumping out. You open the passenger back door and take place to the side of the car to let her pass. Tea in left hand. Briefcase in the right one. The wave of perfume coming from the car hits you. It's magnificent. You almost close your eyes to be able to smell it deeper. You want to immerse yourself in it. But you remain professional. You close the door and move quickly to push the elevator button.

You wait for Doctor Isles to take her place. Once she's in the left corner, as usual, you get in and press the upper button.

Elevators doors open and you're greeting by Brittany.

"Good morning Doctor Isles.

Miss Rizzoli, good morning."

"Good morning Brittany. How are you ? Do you have my finale schedule for today ?" Doctor Isles enquires.

"Yes, of course, I printed it after you send me the rectification this morning" answers Brittany while handing it.

"Perfect. Thank you."

As soon as the exchange is over, Doctor Isles heads to her office.

"Okay, Miss Rizzoli..." Brittany starts.

"Please, call me Jane."

"I forgot, sorry. So, Jane, since Doctor Isles's schedule changed a little, we can see together if she will be needing you before tonight."

"Right."

It turns out that Doctor Isles is just going to need you for lunch. And for the ride back tonight. The initial busy schedule plan for the afternoon has been modified.

Brittany is already back behind her desk. You look at your watch. You have about four hours before lunch time.

"I'm gonna head out. I'll be back around 12:30pm. Call me if Doctor Isles needs me before."

"Okay Jane. See you later."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note : thank you very much for all the reviews, follows and favorites.**

You don't even have to justify yourself. Maybe that's the best part. Maybe not. This work relation is based on trust. You're here when you're needed. You do your job. As well as you can. You don't ask questions. Nobody asks you questions in return. That satisfies you. And don't at the same time.

You don't doubt that they've been doing some researches about you. Maybe that's it. Some words writing about your career, some informal documents on your past. Your whole life resumed in a five pages folder. That's it. That's what they trust. Papers. Names. References. That's what you are. Great. It will do the trick. For today.

At 12:24 you're in the elevator again. That's a 14 seconds travel from the ground floor. With the private elevator at least. The sound indicating that you've arrived pulls you out of your internal counting.

"Hello again Jane." Brittany says to you. "Have a sit. Doctor Isles should be out any minute. You remember the address of the restaurant you're driving her, right ?"

"Yes of course". Your answer is sharp. Almost black. And for a second you feel sorry for Brittany. You must be seen as a cold person. That's who you are. Now.

You unbutton the vest of your suit and take a sit. You wait. Thinking that you could draw a picture of this entrance. By heart. You almost know precisely where everything is. It's been four days. You challenge yourself. Close your eyes. Test yourself. Ask a question. Any question. About a color. An object.

At 12:30 sharp, Doctor Isles exits her office. The sound of the door makes you open your eyes right away and in the same movement, you're on your feet. Re-buttoning your vest.

Same routine. Backwards.

* * *

The sound is so repressed that you almost miss it. But years of practice have tough you better. And the silence of the cockpit helps you. A lot. Your ears are trained for that as well. You know the sound. You're still focused on the traffic. Nothing can push you aside from your objective. Almost. Because when you raise your eyes to look in the rear-view mirror for a fraction of second, what you see breaks you. A little. Your heart feels tight. So tight in your chest. It's been a while since you had a feeling like that. A long time. Forever.

First speed. Second. Third. Fourth. Your driving is smooth. You wish it'll smooth the atmosphere around you as well. You make it extra smooth. Left foot. Clutch pedal. Right hand. Gearshift. Third speed. Right foot. Above the accelerator. Let the car slow down.

Doctor Isles is looking absently from the window. Trying to keep her tears at bay. Trying so forcefully not to let another sob escape. She has her elbow on the windowsill and her hand near her mouth. Her eyes closed. Painfully. Like she wishes to never open them anymore. But when she does, her look is cold. Resigned.

You drive the car and navigate between others like they don't exist. You understand why they choose you. You're in control. You make one with the motor. Your will. Your command. You can do anything behind a wheel. You stop for the traffic light. Waiting. Green. Accelerate. Turn left. In the parking lot. It reminds you of the office above. You're pretty sure you can drive in with your eyes close. But you won't. Not because you're afraid or because of the price of the car in your hands. Because you promised yourself. To not do it anymore. And you attend on keeping it. For you. And for your passenger.

Same way. Same elevator. Same ride. But no control. Except the choice of the floor.

You're looking straight in front of you. On the grey doors. But you've seen. The red mark. On her hand. Distinctive. Because she was biting herself. To help her. To make her focused. To support her. Not to burst into tears.

"I think I won't need you until this evening now Miss Rizzoli. You can see with Brittany for tomorrow, I may have a busy day and need you to drive me for most of it." And with that, Doctor Isles is already in her office. You have barely the time to answer back "Of course…"

* * *

When you're in the car again, it's dark outside and pouring rain. Like crazy. The evening is advanced. And true to her words, Doctor Isles hadn't needed you until now. The sky is low, dangerous, black. And the rain hits the glass with so much force that you're not sure that it wouldn't explode. Except you know it's impossible. You cannot stop thinking how the weather reflects your passenger mood.

Why do you care so much about her ? Why seeing her sad make you feels something. Arching. Lining. Like there is something here. Something you recognize. Something you can related to. Something you can understand.

You're at the gate. Coming back from what seems like a heavy day. For you. For Doctor Isles. So when you pull in front of the big porch you almost wish you could say something reassuring. You turn around to face her. And there is a shift. Like she is having the exact same urge. Something weird. Strange. That hadn't happened in a long time. You know it. She knows it.

Attraction. Repulsion. You're torn between these two. And you don't know which feeling is going to win. You don't know what to do. What she is excepting. What she is attending. You're in the middle. The battle inside is fierce. But nothing is visible outside. You're so good at that now. Not showing anything. You don't even think of it like this. But this situation makes you question yourself. And you realize it is exactly the same situation as ever. You don't like that. Maybe for the first time you wish you weren't like that. But when you think of it, it's clear that the wall you've been building up for years is far too high now. You can do nothing.

Attraction. Repulsion. Still here. Still inside. Still battling.

In a quick movement, you finally find yourself taking the umbrella next to you. And you're out. Making your way to open the door for her. But when you arrived, she has already open it. She's waiting. You don't know what for. So you do what you do best : be professional. Propose your hand, help her out of the car, protect her from the rain with the umbrella. Even if that's the last thing you wish you were doing. You realize that this is actually not your job when you turn around to face the house. Because Elison is also standing on the porch with an umbrella. Also ready to protect her from the rain. And it's too late. There is no time for you to question again if you're wrong or not. You'll find soon enough.

Doctor Isles doesn't seems so torn by your action. Maybe it helps you relax a little. Until you're in the house and that you see her disappearing without saying anything. Even though you're prepare to that kind of behavior, you cannot help the feeling coming with it. Being neglected. Rejected. Not recognized. Not wanted. This was not your place to be. In reaction, you decide to be out as soon as possible.

 _Fuck._ How can you be so stupid. Thinking there can be something. Anything more than a professional interaction with her. And since when did you start caring for that. Caring for her.

That's not until you're in the car again, ready to go park it that you realize that your back is wet. Cold. Another reason for you to speed back to your place. As you are exiting the Jaguar and going to dispose the key on the board, the door of the garage open. And what you see makes you skip one breath. Doctor Isles is here. But you are already walking to your car. Let's face it, you have no idea of what to do. And this is the only thing that bring you confidence. Walk. Don't look. Don't talk. Walk. Just walk. Until you hear her voice.

"I'm sorry for my behavior Miss Rizzoli."

Silence.

"Thank you for protecting me from the rain and getting me safe inside."

More silence.

"I see you're drenched" She pause, and you understand that she's gauging the situation, deciding if she might overstep some boundaries if she continue to speak "…if you like to come back again in the house, you can have a hot beverage before leaving…"

You're surprised by the fastness of your answer : "No. Thank you for the offer but I'll head to my place." You're cold. Your body is. And your soul too.

"Okay, I understand." She seems to think about what will be her next move. Unsure. Demanding. "So, I'll see you tomorrow morning at 7:30 ?"

"Yes. I'll be here."

"Perfect. Drive safe and have a good evening Miss Rizzoli."

For the second time today, she's out. So rapidly. Like waiting for your answer would have given you time to change your mind.


	3. Chapter 3

You've learn resilience. Without noticing it. You're resilient. And you can't remember when it started.

But tonight, it's too much, you're shattered. Your life is too heavy.

So when you're in your apartment again, after you quit the property of Doctor Isles and what happened in the garage, it takes all your will power to restrain you from drinking. A lot. You want to erase everything. And instead, like you've learned months ago, you make some water boiled. The instant decaf in your mug seems so lifeless. Without relish. But you've learn also to like that. Something boring at first. But very nice with another look. You start to wonder when you've become this master of philosophy.

Anyway, back to reality. You're going out for a run. You don't care what time it is. Or if it's dark outside. You just need to run. To let go all that could possibly messed up in your head. Starting with Doctor Isles. Don't start thinking about her. Don't start over analyzing everything. Do your thing. That's enough. Nobody asks for anything else. Especially her. Do your part and it will be alright.

You call Jo Friday and you're out. The physical release can start. By the time you're back, you decide for more practice. Because the run wasn't enough. You need to do something strong. To release the tension. The power. The anger. You need to be sore. To feel sore. The punching bag is the perfect equipment to finish this task.

Then, when you feel at ease, physically tired, there are no more dangerous thoughts. About anything. So the night ends quietly. Shower. Shorts. T-shirt. Bed.

* * *

The following week passes like a blur. You're not sure you've been sleeping when you should have but you're not tired. And Carol make sure to have your coffee, black, hot, with extra hot water, one sugar, waiting for you every morning.

You hadn't talk to Doctor Isles apart from formalities. But every time you've felt like she was trying to be a little more implicated. Like she was pushing an invisible line and fighting herself in trying to be less distant.

Saturday morning, you find yourself in the mansion again. Waiting. Reading the newspaper.

And when she enters the waiting room, she's followed by a man you don't recognize.

"Good morning Miss Rizzoli. May I present to you Vince Korsak. He is the senior executive vice president and he has work for the organization for over sixteen years. He was travelling for work the last three weeks and just came back. Vince, this is Jane Rizzoli, my driver."

He extend his hand to shake yours.

"Nice to meet you Miss Rizzoli."

"Nice to meet you Sir."

"Oh please, call me Korsak. We don't need the old title."

You start walking to the door when you see a black man coming your way. And then you hear Vince Korsak : "Oh, Miss Rizzoli, let me introduce you to my driver as well. This is Barold Frost. Frost, this is Jane Rizzoli."

* * *

From now on, your routine is different. Because Frost seems to naturally care for you. So you adapt. And you're doing things you'll never knew you'll be doing again. Or, for that matters, that anybody will do for you again. Like bringing you lunch. Or coffee. Or both. And, as scary as it is at the beginning, not only do you not care anymore but you don't try to over think it.

It's a good thing. To have someone again. To be able to talk, even if it's just a little. And, most of all, to share. To ask questions. To wait for answers. And eventually to talk about your own experiences.

Frost is a nice guy. You always wonder what it would be like to see him out of work. Until it arrives. On a Friday night. After a long week. When neither of you have to work on the following Saturday nor Sunday. You decide to have the whole night. Drinks, dinner and fun. Try. At least.

So, when you enter the Dirty Robberts, you feel at ease. No stress. At all. You can do this. A bar. Fine. With alcohol. Fine too. TV with sports. Super fine. And someone with whom you can actually talk to. Extra fine.

"Hey, I see you've changed ! It's nice to see you out of your suit !"

"Hey, tanks man !" you respond "Nice to see you too…out of yours…except now you look like you need to hit the gym a little bit more or something…"

Frost gently punches you in the arm and this small gesture instantly makes a big hole in your heart. This gesture crashes you. You're on a verge. And you need to cool down. Go back to earth.

Hopefully, he doesn't seem to notice it, or at least, doesn't say anything about it and continues to play along.

"Yeah, at least, it does not look like I'm missing a bone, Miss Skinny Tinny over here !"

The night is starting.

* * *

On Monday morning, you look tired. Exhausted. For nothing. Because you had plenty of rest on Saturday. And Sunday. Apparently, your body does not have the same opinion because dark circles under your eyes says otherwise.

Nobody dare to make any comments. Even though it's obvious. And you wonder why.

Nobody except Frost. Of course.

As he is holding you a cup of coffee and noticing your face, he starts right away.

"Ho ho, Rizzoli, you look like crap…what happened ? You haven't stopped since we quit each other on Friday…or if I remember correctly early Saturday morning ? Did you meet some nice…lady ?"

The teasing in his voice is evident.

"Come on, Frost, enough already with my face. And with my social life as well. Jeez, I knew that I've made mistakes by sharing my life with you. And, for your information, I don't know how I can look so exhausted when I had hours of sleep. Actually, much more in two days than the whole week before."

"Maybe something is bothering you…" he offers.

You know exactly what has been bothering you. But right now, you can't tell him. Not here in the office. Not now. So you just nod and hope that I'll stop asking you question. Witch he does.

On Monday morning, you look tired. Exhausted in Doctor Isles office. Waiting for the next ride. But now that Frost is here with you and that you have a fresh coffee in your hand, everything seems less complicated.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note :** **so thrilled by all your reviews, follows and favorites.** **To any of you having time and patience, i'll be delighted to have a beta. English is not my first language so if you please, contact me !**

* * *

The air in the car is thick. Bite your tongue. Bite the inside of your cheek. Anything. Prevent you to do something you'll regret later. Don't speak. Don't open your mouth. Don't make a sound. You have no right. Start the car. Forget.

You can't.

You hope that your eyes are telling what you can't. And by the way she's looking back at you, it seems that it works. She's avoiding your gaze and suddenly, that's your point of no return. This shyness is untenable. So you explode. As you know so well. Too well.

"No fucking way. I'm not going to drive him back home with you. He talks to you like shit. He is so disrespectful that I refuse to drive him." You pause. When there's no reactions, you continue staring right in her eyes "Now you have two options : I quit at this moment and you have to find someone else to drive you or I keep my job but I'm not driving him." Your voice is not shaky. Your voice is firm. You don't need to tell her that it's her choice. She knows what power is. And you're even a little surprise that she let you finish your diatribe until the end.

The car is silent. The engine not running yet. Your heart is. Heartbeats so loud in your ears that you think they are hearing them also. You wish you had start the car. It would have given you some composure. Heavy silence. More heartbeats. Loud. Steady.

"Garrett, I think you heard Miss Rizzoli. Please live the car."

"Maura, what the fuck is that ? You're going to listen to your fucking driver ? We know each other since high school and you're listening to your new driver instead of me ? What the hell is that ?"

"Sorry Garrett but I think you better leave the car now. Please."

"Come on Maura. That must be a joke. How much have you been fucking drinking tonight ?"

You don't dare to take your eyes off the mirror. Because when he leaned against Doctor Isles with that crazy look, your blood makes only one turn. You're out in a second. And by the time you have open the back door, he already have her wrists in his hands.

 _Fucking scrumbag_. "GET OUT..." You don't care that you look like a crazy person right now. You want only one thing. To get him out. So she can't be reach. When you see no movement at all from his part, you know that you're going to have to pull him out. Even though you don't want to. You act with all the power you have. And when you have dragged him outside, you find some more force to scream at his face

"Don't you dare touch her, fucking classy rich man. You have absolutely no right. You heard the Doctor. Leave before I beat your ass."

He must be totally taken aback. Because he doesn't answer right away. And then, the angry storm comes out. Like a tornado. Furious.

"You don't tell me what to do, bitch !"

He is on you. His fist make contact with your nose. Your first though is that you're going to kill him. Really. Because when you straddle him on the ground, nothing is stopping you. You can beat. Again. And again. Punch everything out of him. You want to see blood flooding. Everywhere. You want to make him suffer. You want to inflict pain. Something he would remember. And as you're going to throw the first punch in his face, a hand stops you.

"Jane." Strong voice. Strong arm. Strong will power.

"Jane. Let him go. He doesn't deserve what you're about to do to him. And to you after all."

Strong voice. Strong comment. You let go. You know better. You know you'll be thankful. When you'll be past the angry state.

You're on your feet again. When you see that Doctor Isles is still in the car, you don't know what to do. You're frozen. And you don't even hear what Garrett Fairfield is telling. You want to be far away. You wish you could fly. But when your hear that same voice with the same furious tone whispering in the silence "Fucking dyke !", your blood start boiling again.

Frost is speaking to you and for the second time that night, it pulls you out of your trance. It helps you not to jump on Garrett's throat and finish what you were about to do. "Go ahead. Drive Doctor Isles back home. Go Jane. Just go."

You're at your place. In the driver sit.

Silence again.

Thick and loud.

You want to scream. To everybody. But most of all at yourself. You start the engine and push the accelerator break as much as you can. The car jumps. Furiously. In one fluid motion, the car reached 60 mph. Out. Fast escape. Drive.

* * *

You keep your eyes on the road. Not anywhere else. You've never been so concentrated in your whole life.

The travel seems to last two minutes. And before you can even think, you're in front of the gate. Opening. You check that it's closing behind you. And you pull in front of the entrance.

Turn off the ignition.

In the silence and confine of the car, you decide to take a second chance for tonight. You turn. And your voice is not so calm anymore.

"I apologize for my behavior Doctor Isles. I would understand if you don't want me to come back Monday morning. I can see and ask Frost to drive you. "

Again, she has let you speak. Holding your gaze. Firmly. Fixedly. No interruption. She must be the master of philosophy after all. There, she has the power again. Weirdly it doesn't make you feel weak.

"Miss Rizzoli, it's alright."

There is a pause, long enough for you to wonder what to do. But then you hear her again.

"Although I think your nose might be broken. Or at least dislocated."

You haven't noticed the blood on your shirt. Or the iron taste in your mouth. You were so full of anger that you haven't even felt that your nose might be damaged.

But looking down and reaching for your face, you see blood. Yours. On your hand. Reflex. Go to your pocket. Take the tissue. And put it on your nose.

And then murmurs "Yeah, thanks for pointing it out."

You open your door. Walk to the back door. Open it. Wait for the Doctor to go out and pass you. Close the door. And start walking to the front door again. But before you can go or say anything else, Doctor Isles stops in front of you, without a sound. And you find yourself distracted by the fact that she's never been this close.

"I can try to see what the real damages are and maybe I can do something to make it better. I'm a Doctor after all."

Her voice is small, like a child, almost excusing herself for something she haven't even done yet. But her whole self is so powerful that you have to remember to breathe.

"Hmm, 'kay" is your only response.

Then her hands are on your face. Small. Delicate. Fingers. Touching. Precisely. Searching for answers under your skin. The feeling of her finger, light, careful, is taking you in another world. Then, the silence is filled by the sharp noise of your nose been guided in its place. And by the noise coming out of your throat.

"Ohhh…chhh."

Surprised. No warning. But adrenaline has done its job. You're okay. You bet your nose is right at its place now. And you're going to need ice on it. Boxing have though you better than letting a villain bruise become worst when it's not taking care of. Especially on the face.

"So, I will see you on Monday morning. At 8 am. Sharp."

And with that you're left alone. That's the scariest thing. The more painful also. You wish she would have fire you. Scream at you. Tell you how much you had crossed boundaries tonight. Make you a lecture on good manners. Put you back in your place. Well, anything but being considerate and this silence treatment. Again.

The ice that you put on your nose that night is, somehow, less cold than the Doctors' reaction. And you wonder why it also hurts less.


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope everyone of you had a wonderful holiday season. Happy new year !**

* * *

You don't understand why she is here. On your day off. Why. Why would she come here and watch you race. And your look must reflect your surprise. Because she shifts. She is uncomfortable. She is out of place. She doesn't like to be unsure. The loss of control must be something she's not used to. Except she's been driven for years. You assume.

It becomes clear that the two of you are atrociously shy. Like always. Attraction. Repulsion. You don't remember when you've become this shy person. But she brings it out of you. And maybe that's for the best.

So, as you exit the brand new 458 Speciale Ferrari, you decide to hide your surprise. And your pride too if you're totally honest with yourself.

"Good morning Doctor Isles."

"Miss Rizzoli, good morning to you too."

You don't want to be out of place but you need to ask. "To what do I own the pleasure of seen you on a Sunday and, if I must add, on a circuit ?"

"I came by to say hello…and also, to apologize for yesterday evening...events."

You are taken aback. "Oh, okay."

"Yes. And also, I brought you a cup of coffee."

Your look must reflect your surprise again. But it's more like if you've won the lottery. It's a surprise. A very good one. And a socking one at the same time. Because in your subconscious, Doctor Isles is not the one that bring coffee. She's the one to whom you bring coffee to.

"Thank you. Can I ask how you'd know that I would be here ?"

Your question seems to embarrass her much more than the previous one. It's normal. You don't know each other. You don't know her. And she's not supposed to know you. At all.

"It's "may I ask" and yes, you may. I asked Vince's driver." She flushes. Of course she would. Frost. The red on her cheeks is the best thing you've seen today.

It makes you smile. She makes you smile. The whole situation. And because she's cute been so out of herself.

"Ok."

Silence. Again. Loud. Everywhere. And then.

"Would you like to go on a lap with me ? Or maybe you want to drive ?"

She blushes again and her answer is quick.

"No, I don't want to drive but I'll go with you if you don't mind."

"Of course not. Come on, we're going to take that one" you said as you point to a Porshe. "Hey, Cameron, is the 991 GT3 ready ?"

"Yes Jane, I just finish the adjustments on the engine so you can take it out for a drive."

"Perfect."

"So, Doctor Isles, if we want to do this for real, we're gonna have to change your outfit…I'm sorry but safety come first, especially on a circuit like this."

You're fastened by solid seatbelt in the driver sit. You've made sure that Doctor Isles was fastened as well before going behind the wheel. When you come in the car, you handle the last thing to wear to the Doctor : the helmet.

"I'm sorry, I know it was difficult for you to put on the racing suit but this is the most important part. We don't want to jeopardize that big brain of yours !"

You start to smile but there is no reaction. No laugh. Nothing said. You tense. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to say. You don't know her. And that's the second time in less than an hour that you have to remind yourself that fact. You don't know each other. You don't have the right to joke around. And, for God sakes, you're her driver.

"Yes. Of course, safety first. Thank you."

* * *

When you come back to the stands, she's beaming.

"Oh shit, I totally forgot the coffee before taking you racing."

"That's alright, don't worry Miss Rizzoli. But be careful about your language."

"Oups, sorry about that and no, let me invite you, we can have another one here if you want. I doubt it's gonna be good as the one you brought but since we don't have another choice…"

"Sure."

How do you end up with Doctor Isles in the cafeteria area behind the stands is still a mystery. That you can't solve. It's almost 11 am and here you are. Sitting at a table. In front of your employer. Drinking a hot coffee. You don't even care to question if it's real. Or not. Because you're lucky. It will do.

Twenty minutes and no silence later, you're up. Think. Think. Think.

"Did you come by yourself or do you need me to give you a ride home ?"

"I came by myself but thanks for the offer."

"Okay. Let me at least walk you back to your car." This sentence feels so strange. You're going to see Doctor Isles behind a wheel. In a car. This moment is so peculiar.

You're lost again. Arriving at her car, you don't open your mouth to comment it but you just want to scream and jump everywhere. From excitement. There is a clean matte black Corvette C3 Stingray coupe. A fucking Corvette from the 1970's. She's driving this Chevrolet and you wonder if you're still in your dream. You've never seen this car in her garage. You would have remembered if you did. Of course you would. One more time you're taken aback. You definitely don't know her. For sure.

"I had a really great time…" You sense that she wants to tell you more but she's unsure.

Behind a wheel, you feel untouchable but right now you're nothing again. You wish you can crawl under something and hide. But you know better and you're learning so, take your courage and put it out. Fast. And nicely.

"Yeah, me too. It was fun showing you a little bit of my craziness. Thank you for stopping by Doctor Isles."

"Please, call me Maura." Now it's your time to blush. Fully. Red.

"Ok. But only if you call me Jane."

"Alright. I think, I might try. Thank you again…Jane."

"You're welcome. I'll see you on Monday."

"Yeah."

"7 am."

* * *

You never question why there is so much cars in the garage. Never ask. Just do what you are told. Drive. Whatever the car. Drive. Even if this is very intriguing. Twenty two cars. Plus the Corvette. Twenty three. You know all of them. Without having been so much in the garage looking at them. Three floors. Full of cars. The elevator in the back of the first floor. Leading to the second floor. Then to the last one. Like on boats. You know they are categorize. Arrange. Store. With an order.

So much cars. Locked. Inside. Paradoxical. So much cars. So much power to exit everything. To be out. Fast. To go wherever and never look back.

It's excessive. Without moderation. For one person who, as far as you know, doesn't seems to have something for cars. But you've never talk to her about that. Yet. It had taken your breath away the only time you watched her sitting in the driver position. And this day was today. And it was definitively worth it. It's been a long time since you had a Sunday like that. A happy and smooth one.


	6. Chapter 6

You can feel that your relation with Doctor Isles – _Maura_ , she said to call her _Maura_ – have changed. But you can't tell how or when it started. Is it the glance. The tone of your voices. The fact that it always looks like she is staying a little bit more than needed in the car. The discussion that you now have, now and then, about cars ?

All of this is new to you. And you try to appreciate it just like that. Because it has been only a few weeks. Even though you know. Deep down. That there is something more. Something fierce. Something strong. Something with no definitions and only actions.

In the 2008 Bugatti Veyron, the one and only 16.4 _Sang Noir_ , you feel invincible. And the river of your thoughts leads you to question if it's really the effect of the car itself or the fact that Maura is sitting next to you.

Because when you arrived this morning, she asked you to take another car. With her voice that, you learned, can make you do anything. "Jane, can you take out the Bugatti for today please ?"

"Of course, no problem."

As soon as you are in the car, you wonder if you will have the power to get out one day. You have found the key on the board. Headed straight to the car. Opened it. And now you're in. You have to adjust a little bit the car sit. As well as the mirror. Inside. Outside. Left. Right. Everything seems good.

It's already crazy to be in it. Just one thing remains : to start it. Key. Ignition. The sound only is a dream to your ears. The motor sounds like a wild animal. Like it needs to eat something. Like it's craving for any acceleration. Waiting for the hunt to start. For the accelerator to be pushed. Firmly. Strongly. With strength. But you're still in the garage so, right now, there is no way that you're going to do anything crazy. And also, you've never driven this car. You have to learn how it works. Its reactions. Its wants. Its needs. Before been able to deliver the best way you can.

Cautiously, you exit the parking garage and you drive to the front of the house. It's not until then that you realize that Maura is going to sit next to you. For the first time. Except the time on the circuit. But it was racing. Today, Maura is going to be in work full mode and that implies a dress or a skirt, some crazy shoes, a nice jacket, a suitcase. Plus jewelry, nice hair spreading and an intoxicated perfume. How are you going to survive to all that just centimeters from you.

You can't buy more time to think about all that when you see her exit the house and coming toward the car. You jump out. You haven't even open the passenger door completely but she's already thanking you. With an all-white smile.

"Thank you Jane."

Her dimples full on display, you manage to nod and avoid eye contact, well knowing you're blushing.

It's been only 10 minutes that you've been driving on the main road but you already know that you love that car. The way it's owning the road. The way it needs the asphalt. Make you feel so powerful with just a little touch. Bring you confidence. Make you believe you're on the top of everything. It makes you feel like you could drive hours without noticing it. And you feel guilty to think that you can't fully appreciate it because she's in the car also. Because if you let go, if you let your guard down, you're going to be exposed. If you show that you like something it can always be taken away from you. Without any warnings. And you prefer to not enjoy it completely than not enjoy at all. So you refrain your smile. You try to concentrate a little bit more on the traffic, on the signalization signs even though there is no need. You know every roads, every signs and every bumps of the trip.

"So, do you enjoy this car more than the Jaguar ?" Maura asks you. Right in it. Precise. Like always. The capacity of this woman to notice everything is bluffing. And her question is neat. Of course.

"It's different." You don't know how to express it any better. How to deal with the question. So you run from it, make a quick response, hoping that it's going to end the discussion. That you won't have to argue. Or explain. But Maura knows better. And somehow, you're glad she decide to push her luck.

"Sometimes, different can be good also, don't you think ?"

"I suppose so…I…I…try to not think too much about it." What the hell are you talking about ? A question about a car preference and you're already talking about something else. Yes, with a figure of style but Maura is so smart that she'll figure it the moment you've said it.

"And why don't you think about it ? If different is better, maybe sometimes it's nice to make known that you've noticed it."

"You're right," you answer. "I guess it's good sometimes to be able to say that you prefer what is different."

You've said it. Yes. Little step. But step anyway.

She nods and turns her head to look out. The rest of the ride to the office is silent but you're almost smiling now. And you make the most of the 25 minutes before you arrive at the parking to enjoy it. As much as you can. And to show it.

* * *

"Good morning Barold. I take that Vince must already be waiting for me." Maura says as she enters her office.

"Good morning to you Doctor Isles. And yes, Korsak is already in your office."

Brittany is just behind Frost and promptly jumps in front of him to hand Maura her schedule of the day.

"Good morning Doctor Isles. I've integrate the changes, here is your schedule for today." You stare a few seconds at the scene in front of you and wonder how this woman is working. Constantly. That she looks like she has nothing else in her life other than work.

"Thank you" Maura says as she is heading to her office. She stops and turns back looking at the three of you and adds "Brittany, can you please bring coffee for me and Vince ? Thank you."

"Yes Ma'am, it will be ready in 5 minutes." Brittany responds as she makes her way to the small kitchen near her desk.

You're alone with Frost.

"Hey Frost. Look like you were in a deep conversation with Brittany before we arrived…anything interesting to say about it ? Did we interrupt something… ?"

"Morning to you too Rizzoli ! And it's none of your business. As far as I can see, Brittany was also talking to me !"

"Maybe you could go and ask her two more coffee no ?" You said and wait for a response. It doesn't come.

"Oh, come on Frost, I'm giving you the perfect opportunity to go and continue the conservation you had with her. Go !"

And Frost is out of your sight. Fast. You sight and sit in the chair in front of Brittany's desk.

* * *

"Jane."

You stand up from the chair you've been sitting in most of the day, in front of Brittany's desk witch she left nearly 3 hours ago.

"I know it's late and this was not on the planning but can you please drive me to Garett Fairfield's place and wait for me ?"

You weren't prepare. The question takes you aback. You close your face without noticing it. No emotions. You have to be emotionless. You manage to whisper a "Yes".

You hate it. Before you actually heard. You just hate it. It's an epidermal reaction. You can't help it. When his name has been said. You hated it then. And you hate it now.

Buttons. Elevator. Key. Doors. The car. The one. Perfectly black. Dark. _Sang Noir_. _Black Blood_. Like your soul.

You have no choice. Robot mode.

Of course, you have to drive her. It's your job. The only thing you've been hired to do. Nobody asks you to care about the person you'll be driving. But with Maura, you found that it was no use to pretend that you don't care. You can't. And you start to understand that you won't either.

Of course you know the road. Even if it was a one time drive. Your memory is perfect. You grip the wheel a little bit more. Your two hands are at the perfect distance from one another. The tension in your arms is a little bite more pronounce. There also is a fire. In your gloves. Inside your skin. In your body. Deep. In your palm. You can't pretend that you don't know the road. And that's what's killing you.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN : Again, thank you so much for the reviews - your kind words are spelndid -, follows and favorites.**

* * *

When she is back in the car, forty minutes later, you know. She doesn't have to say anything. You turn the Bugatti on. The motor roars and within two minutes, you're out. Alone in the dark. Driving on a road trapped in a forest of pines. Tall. Green dark. No light. Smooth road. Taking you wherever you want.

In the confine of the car, you're surrendered by her odor. It's everywhere. Her smell. Your brain will remember it. Under any circumstances. You wish nothing more than to reach out and put your right hand on her tight. But the thought only makes it too real. You don't want to break it.

So, when she places her left hand on your tight, you're not surprised. The gesture is the most intimate one you had in a long time. And when you recover hers with yours, you know. There is no big freak out. You know. You're prepare. The trip back to her house is silent. You enjoy the warm sensation of her hand. Wishing it would last all night. Wishing you could drive her far. Away. Anywhere. In a heartbeat. She doesn't even have to ask for it.

In front of the mansion, you quickly turn off the engine. You don't want Elison to come out that fast. You need to prolong the moment. Engrave it. When you see no movement at the door nor any light lightened in the entrance, you understand that she must have warn her house keepers to not wait for her. And you're glad. So glad. You might kiss her for her kindness.

"Maura…" you said as you turn your head on her side. Only to see that she is still looking in front of her. To nothing. Her eyes are shinning. Tearing. Watering. You need to be closer. Even if you really like that car, you won't be able to be as close as you need.

She is gone so far that you need again to call her name when she's standing in front of you. After you have pull her out of the car.

"Maura."

Still silence. The contact of your bodies close together makes you gasp. It's relief. Reinsurance. That she's still here. With you. Even if her mind is lost somewhere. You can ground her. Make her come back. For you. Your arms securely locked around her shoulders. You look straight in front of you. To the dark forest.

She shivers. And that sent a message. You need to take her inside. You don't know how. You wish she was glued to you so you wouldn't have to move from her. The security of your warm embrace. And then, like she understands your hesitation, she moves. Slowly. Away from you. She places herself on your side. Her arms locked around your waist. Her hands tangled. Her head in the crock of your neck. You can walk. Move on.

Doors. Alarm. No lights. She's like a ghost. Knowing exactly where to go. What to do.

It's been more than an hour that you haven't heard her voice. Or tried to make her speak for that matter. Exhausting, long day for her. But you have enough power for the two of you tonight. You guide her to the living room. Make her sit on the most comfortable looking couch. Reach a small lamp and light it up before speaking.

"I'll be right back okay ? Wait for me."

You don't wait for an answer. Because you know you won't have one. So you leave her and head to the kitchen.

Here, you turn the bright light. Then you start thinking.

* * *

When you come back, twenty five minutes later, it's already 1:00 am. Maura is still sitting on the couch. You see her tremble and your heart constrict in your chest. You put the tray on the table in front of her. Grab the nearest blanket you find and straddle her with it. Carefully looking not to forget any places she might be cold. She's wrapped. Her eyes are a little more focused. And when she speaks, you know she's back, somewhere.

"I couldn't have gone anywhere anyway so yes, I had no other choice than waiting for you Jane. And hopping you would come back."

You're hurt. By what she's implying. Like you would have force her to stay here. But your concern disappear when she continues.

"Thank you. I mean, thank you for everything. For tonight. And most of all for coming back. It seems that I'm not good at making jokes."

Silence.

"About waiting for you and not going anywhere."

It clicks in your head.

"Hey Maura. It's okay. I think you're a little tired anyway. You had a long day. So don't worry, I understand."

You're sad. Thinking that it already happened to her. To be ditched. To be forget. To be the one waiting. Waiting. Again. Forever.

"I see you made tea…"

You cut her off before she has time to ask.

"Yes and this cup is for you my dear. I only found green tea so I tough that's what you're drinking."

You don't know from where the pet name is coming but it's here. You like it. It sounds natural. She untangled herself a little from the blanket. Just enough to be able to grab the cup.

"I also made sandwiches. With what I found and I'm afraid it's not going to be eatable…"

"Thanks Jane. I haven't eat since lunch and I'm sure they're going to be fine. And very tasteful."

She seems so tired that you wonder how she is not sleeping yet.

You hand her the plate with the sandwich, cut in half. She places it on her lap. As the two of you eat in silence, retracing the last few hours in your head. And the car trip to here. Her hand. Her body against yours under the porch. Suddenly your mouth is dry. So dry. You can't eat anymore. You need to drink. You put the plate down. You take your cup of tea and take it fast to your mouth wishing to make the sensation disappear. But instead, you burn yourself. Hot beverage. Against soft tongue. Cold mouth.

"Wooooh, shit…." you start whining as you go to put the cup right back on the table.

In an eye blink, Maura is near you. She had place her own plate back on the tray and held her hand to help you. Your fingers touch. Through the tiny piece of cloth on your hand. The electricity. You feel it everywhere. The need to be close. Finally, you let the cup go. And watch Maura putting it next to hers.

You don't know what you notice first. Her lips. On yours. Her hands. On your face. In your hair. Everything stop and explode at the same time. You move closer. Instinctively. Going closer. Searching. More. More. More.

"Maura."

It's the only thing you can say.

You don't know what you notice next. Her tongue. In your mouth. Her hands. Gripping your hair. You're warm. Everywhere. Alive. The warm in your mouth might be due to the burning but you're sure that her mouth is helping. A lot. You don't even know where your own hands are. And you don't care. It's been a long, long time.

Next move, Maura is pulling you against her. With force. Decided. Wanting. Soon you're modeled to her. Lying on the couch. Half on her. Half on the couch. You feel her mouth leaving yours. Your lips. Putting her forehead on them. And cuddling. To be closer. Like it's possible. Make one. She models her body. Fits it against you. Arms around your waist. Locking. Legs interviewed. Making their progress and space between yours. Stopping when it fit perfectly. Her forehead never leave yours lips. One. And one.

You know when she's relaxed. Because you feel it. With all your body. Your world can stop when she sights. Loudly. Inspiring. Expiring. Once. Twice. And then, content, you hear her murmur.

"Goodnight Jane."

"Goodnight Maura."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN : Thank you again for everything (reviews, favorites and follows) and a special thank you to LoveIsles for being this chapter's beta.**

* * *

It's not the sound. But the smell that wakes you. Odors. Combined. Smells. Mixed.

You don't want to open your eyes. You don't want to see the day, the sun. You can already see it through your eyelids. And it's perfectly fine that way. You don't want to move. At all. Not now. Not ever. You're warm. You're safe. You feel crazy good. It's been so long that you want to savor it. Memorize it. Store it. Just in case. And that feeling doesn't fade. It grows. It's possible. Because in front of you. Encased in your arms, there is Maura. And thinking of her makes you smile. But that's not all. Because she is slowly caressing your side and belly. You smile. Bigger. First time.

* * *

You have overslept. Because the next wake-up isn't as smooth as the first one. Carol is in front of you. Standing behind the table. Hands on the hips. Clearing her throat. Loud enough for you to open one eye. And the other. And to look at her. When she's sure that you have seen her, she leaves. Now you know that one of the odor you smelled is coffee. And you're craving it.

You don't want to, but you have to wake her. You have no choice. Maybe one day you'll be able to let her sleep. Warm. Long. In your arm. Here.

"Maura." As you say it, you think that maybe she might be tired of hearing you. Saying her name. You whisper again. Closer to her ear.

"Maura… We need to get up."

No response.

"I'm sorry that I have to wake you. But we really need to wake up."

Sleepy smile. Smile. Smile. Smile. Everywhere. You're lost. You see only her smile. And that's enough. For everything. It contains everything that you need. Maybe more.

You can't help yourself.

"Why are you smiling ? Is it because of the crazy night or the fact that you slept on your couch for the first time ?"

When Maura's morning voice answers you, you fall deeper into the trap.

"I'm smiling because you said 'we'."

You don't know any answer to that. And you're not afraid. You can do anything right now. So you smile back. Truthfully. With everything you have. You offer your best. And the reward you are given is the ultimate one. She kisses you. Softly. Needy. Sleepy.

* * *

Weird is not enough. To describe what you think. How you feel. Not at your place. That must be it. The morning routine is awkward. Tense. Like nothing happened last night. Or this morning. Like everyone is trying to stay in their own head. Alone with their own thoughts. Don't share. Don't you dare.

You are taking a shower in one of the guest bedrooms. You can't help looking at yourself in the mirror. It's so big that you can't avoid it. In it, your image seems changed. Is it still you ? Is one night enough ? Maybe you haven't be attentive of changes, but what you are seeing satisfies you. Your body. Your scars. Your hands. All is more acceptable. You put on the same clothes as yesterday. Trying to ignore wrinkles everywhere.

Coffee in hand. To the garage. When you're in the car, the feeling fades away. It make sense. Because you're behind a wheel. A different one. It seems that Maura has a car for every day. No, for every different situation. For every different feeling. You're in the last Lexus available on the market. A GS 450h. Another crazy one. How is it possible ? To have so many great cars. You wonder what Maura's secret is. How she is able to get all these cars. What is she doing to get them? Does she like mechanics so much that she's searching the internet for hours to find the one ? Is she going to salons of exposed new cars and concepts cars ? Does she have someone telling her which one to buy, warning her about the best investments ? You don't think Maura is this type of person. Too independent. Too smart. Too classy. There is only one way to know the responses to all these questions. Ask. Her. But you're still on your cloud, trying to understand what happened last night and being careful not to put too much hope in it. Even if it's too late obviously.

* * *

You're in the left lane. Extreme left. She's next to you. You're in your element. In a car. The most beautiful you'll ever drive. The fastest. The nicest. The finest. When reality hits you. The truth. You're nothing. No one. You don't want to become someone. You want to stay in the shadow. That's where you belong. Not in the front row. And even less on the stage. Not in the left lane. Not speeding. Not slaloming. Not playing with her cars. For the very first time behind a wheel you feel uncomfortable. Out of place. With your thoughts. With your feelings. With your dreams. You don't have a place and you don't want one. So you know it's going to be messy.

As if Maura could read you, she extends her hand above the console and places it on your right hand. On the glove. On the wheel. This gesture makes you want to come out of your body and run. Free. Far. Run. Escape. Now. You don't have a choice. Go back to your place. The one that doesn't exist. And stay there. Long enough to be forgotten. And not missed.

Clearly Maura doesn't see it that way. Lost in her own thoughts. Lonelier than yours. For sure. If only you could hear her thoughts. Screaming at you. Not to run away. Not to escape. Not to stop. Because she's afraid. Too afraid. And she doesn't remember this feeling. So instead of waiting, she starts speaking.

"Jane."

Oh, you know. Already. That you're going to screw it. You'll run. You'll escape. You'll forget. You'll try. Hard. But this soul. Her soul. She will be here. There. Anywhere. And you won't have any excuses. You're going to accept this. And more. A lot more.

"I don't know how to start. How to explain. And for the first time in my life I'm scared. Afraid. Of me. Of you. About what is going on. I have no control. And I want everything. Without having to search for explanations. I want to live. I want to feel. I want you. I want it. I want you. Jane." She's out of breathe. She has spoken fast. Like she will not have enough time. Her life depending on it. Urging her to blurt everything out.

You're in that car. With Maura. Who chose to be in the front seat. Near you. And after her speech, in a matter of minutes, you're coming to life again. Hearing her. Feeling her. It's overwhelming. The tears running down your cheeks are cleaning your past. Your life. Your mistakes. Making you new. Born. And wanting. So wanting. To leave it. With her. Fast. And consuming.

* * *

The day seems like any other at the office. Minus the glance. Minus the craving. Minus everything. So, it's not like any other day. It's the first one. After kissing Doctor Isles. No, Maura. After kissing Maura.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN : Thank you for your reviews, favorites and follows. And a big thank you to LoveIsles.**

* * *

You have been less tense. More open. Your answers are less cold. Less distant. Less hard. It had been four days since that strange night and morning. Frost hands you your favorite coffee. You're immediately suspicious. Because deep down, you know what he is going to ask you about. Your instinct is right. Just after your first swallow, he begins.

"So Jane…you seem to be in a good mood. A very good mood, actually. And much more cheerful." There is a pause. A quick one. You wait for the big question. He easily asks it. Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Am I right if I think that it has to do with Doctor Isles ? Did you two actually get…closer…?"

You won't try to deny it. It's not going to do any good. Especially to your friendship with him. It is that obvious for him that you don't see the point. Try to be as open as you can. With him. And this subject.

"Yes Frost, it has to do with her. We got closer." Whereas you validate his impressions, you don't want to explain more.

"Yeah, I noticed the first name calling."

You laugh. Lightly. It's that obvious. Your inside radiate with warm. It must be visible outside as well. And, for the first time since what seems forever, this feeling doesn't scare you. You don't feel the need to run from it. You're comfortable.

Frost grins at you. And his eyes tell you everything you need. When he starts to hum "Jane and Maura sitting in the tree…" while winking at you, it's your move. You punch him gently in the arm. Before returning the question.

"What about you Casanova ? Any updates with Brittany…?"

This time, he's the one laughing. Loudly. The teasing is only starting.

* * *

The unspoken understanding between you and Maura works. For the first couple of days. You go with the flow of your busy life. More like Maura's busy life. And since you're linked to hers, it becomes your busy life too. Meetings. Working lunches. Afternoon visits. Evening meetings. You drive. Miles after miles. Behind a wheel. Driving.

But it doesn't last. All the wait began to weight on your regained light mood. It starts quietly. Slowly. Gradually, the time you're not spending with her starts to feel ponderous. You're craving her. All the time. When you're alone in the car. Waiting. Thinking. Contemplating what she might be doing. You know very well that this is not your place. That you're doing your job.

Your insecurity gets the best of you. You can't help it. You're feverish. You can't stop imagining what your second intimate encounter with Maura will look like. How it's going to happen. How you're going to let your guard down. For her. Despites the long staring, glances and sometimes light touching, there has been nothing. No kisses. No hugs. Nothing. The more you ponder it, the less it makes sense. You two had plenty of occasions. Multiple times. It has been a week and you're a mess. You can't concentrate anymore. You can't be this close to her. Feeling the attraction, and not being able to do anything about it. You want to be close. Closer. You want to feel her in your arms. Again. Under your skin. You want to map her again. You ache. Your heart constricts in your chest whenever you look at her.

You want to say that you don't care. You want to look totally detached. You want to run. You want to scream. You want to hurt. And to be giving the ultimate gift. To understand why you're feeling so alive. So strong. But with your shyness and Maura's timidity, you don't see how you're going to make progress together.

When Maura invites you to come with her to the '30's and 40's cars festival', you don't know how to react. Or, if you're honest, how not to hurt her. You feel stupid. So stupid. It has nothing to do with her. But how can you try to convince her of that when you'll be declining her offer.

On the paper, it looks like the perfect opportunity. To be alone with her. Just the two of you. But you try to avoid the subject at any cost. You don't want to justify yourself. To argue. Since you don't know how she's going to react. You don't want to say that you already feel out of place. And that you coming will mean being seen with her. You're not sure you're ready. At all. This next step seems impossible to climb. Impossible to reach. It's impossibly high. And, attached to you, there is an anchor. Dragging you to the bottom. Your gilt. Your fears. The anchor is you.

Your life has changed. Maura's life has changed. You're adapting. Although your professional side wins. A lot. Your life is beginning. Starting. And adaptations aren't easy. Even if you try your best.

Two days after she asked you, the invitation is still visible. Laid on the main table in the diner room. It's nagging you. Evidence of your incapacity. To climb that mountain. _Doctor Maura Isles. I will attempt the evening gala with ..._ The blank is the opportunity. _Doctor Maura Isles. I will attempt the evening gala without company_. The answer is cold. Sad. But you can't force yourself to change your opinion.

* * *

You're sitting in the Jaguar. The first car you have ever driven for her. With her. You remember this day perfectly. It's engraved in your body. You're still in the garage. Wondering how you're going to face another week like that. In this unknown territory. Oscillating between happiness and disarray. You have to start the car and drive her to work. Today you're not interested in anything. Not even in the car. Not in the drive. You're blank. Missing.

The more you turn this situation over and over in your head, the less you find answers. The only thing you know it that you want to learn more about her. A lot more. You want to know her. You're curious about everything. Like a moth with light.

So, in a bold move, you ask her out. Because you want to be more open about yourself. Maybe Maura can help you with that. And maybe you can help Maura to be more open during real-social-life-interaction. Also, deep down, if you're totally honest, you're so eager to kiss her again. It feels like months. Years. You long for it. With all your being. The two of you are in the private office's parking. The light is terrible. Pasty. Your words are clear. Out of your mouth before you can think too much.

"Maura, I want to take you out tonight. If you're free of course."

She seems taken aback. In a good way. You see her eyes sparkles. As if she had only waited for this. Thinking it would never happen. But hoping with all her might. You can read all this on her face. When she answers with a strong "Yes", you can't help but sight. You're content.

* * *

The ride back to her house is calm. Peaceful. You drive slowly. You take it all in. You had a great time with Maura. It wasn't planned. Or forced. And maybe that's why it was so nice. You enjoy the ride. But soon, the gate is in front of you. Too fast to your liking.

The two of you exit the car. Quietly. Leaving the garage. Heading to the house. Abruptly, she stops. And she kisses you. Your world sparkles. Everywhere. You didn't realize all the tension and build up you release in this embrace. You're outside. Under the porch. Shivering. Between her arms.

"Jane, you're cold. Come inside."

"Maura." Your tone is playful. "Beside what you may think, I'm not cold. I'm shaking because of you. Because of that kiss." You stop here. Holding your tongue. The words are burning. _'Because you're in my arms. And that feels fucking amazing.'_

Before you know it, she takes your hand. They are covered and for the first time since the accident, you wish to make the gloves disappear. Because, when she straddles you on the closing door, your hands find their way against her cheeks. Automatically. And you wish so bad to feel her skin. Her flesh.

The next kiss is calm. Posed. Unstressed. Exploring. Needed.

Finally, at the end of the night, you surrendered. You didn't have a choice. And you learned that Maura can almost make you do anything. Even when she doesn't verbalize it. She'll just has to kiss you. And you'll agree to everything. Whatever it takes. So, on your way outside, when Maura is out of sight because she went to sleep, you reach for the pen in your inside pocket. You pause over the table where the invitation lays. Still. Blank. Then you add the answer. Write down your name. And take off.

You're outside. Heading to the garage. Ready to take your rusty car. And you're flying. Or dancing. Or both. Above the ground. Above yourself.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN : Thank you for everything. Thanks to LoveIsles.**

* * *

You don't remember anything. Except the sound. During a few seconds, it's loud and clear. Shots. Screams. After that, it's a blur. A mix of everything. Shots, screams again. And blood.

Out of reflex, you jumped on Maura. Covering her. Straddling her. To the ground. With all your body. All your power. Like you can shove her under you. In the ground. Like you can do a nest. And protect her, here. Your body does the job. Protecting. But it's so soft also. And tender. Flesh. And blood. Muscles. And tendons.

You don't know if you're dreaming or living. Where the reality ends and dreams starts. You try. So hard. To attach a sound. A smell. A touch. To anything you know. But when you think you understand, you drift again. And again. And again.

* * *

 _There is blood. Everywhere. It's covering everything. Your hands. Yours arms. And when you look down, it's running down your legs. Droplets. Splashing to the ground. Red. Red. Red._

You jerk awake. Your throat is sore. And it hurts. You can't feel where exactly because it's your whole body. You feel nothing. But pain. In every cell. Every bone.

For a brief moment, you think that what is really going to kill you is the headache you have. Your brain. The suffering is almost unbearable. It makes your stomach turn. You want to sleep but you can't. Because the pain is everywhere. It radiates from you. You want to forget. But the bile rises from your stomach. The need to vomit is too real and before you know it, it happens. And, as quick as this has come, it vanishes. You're so exhausted that you fall in a deep sleep. Without noticing anything around you. Or anybody.

* * *

 _You're on alert. You have to run. Escape. Fast. A force is pushing you. Flee. Run off._

 _You're out. In a valley. Sunny. Bright. And hot. A wave of heat hitting you and you like the feeling. You want it to last. But it stop abruptly. And it's dark again. Or not. You're not sure. Where are you again ? You don't remember. You run. There are stars. You run. You run. You're moving forward. That's it. Move. Forward. Look up. Sky. Dark. With stars. It shines. There is hope. It is so dark and so hopeful at the same time. You're still running._

 _You're on alert. It's a mixed up feeling. You're feeling right. And weak. You wish you could be out again. In the sunny valley. You sigh. You have to start running again. You want to feel exhausted. You have to. You're running._

You wake up with a cold sensation. Again. Jerked awake from a deep numbness. You're sore. Like you've been running for hours. You're beat.

You don't totally regain consciousness. You continue to oscillate between two worlds. Two atmospheres. You try to use your body as an anchor. To take you back to reality. But it's failing you. Once again, your senses are failing you. And you can't come back. So you stop fighting. You don't have the energy. The strength. You let go. Drifting in a dark, detached slumber.

* * *

" _Oh, oh. If this isn't the fragile Miss Rizzoli." This voice. His voice. "I'm so happy to see you again. Here in this garage. I thought that you wouldn't have what it takes to be here. But it seems that you're a real little fighter."_

 _You shrugged._

" _I believe it's time for you and I to have a little conversation. About your ungratefulness regarding everything I've done for you. You seem to forget all the strings I've pulled so you can race here." His voice is like cyanide spreading through the atmosphere._

 _You want to scream. From the top of your lungs. But you know better than that. Better than giving him what he wants. Hearing you helpless. Screaming at him. Desperate to tear him into pieces._

" _You didn't do anything for me." You said with the most platonic voice you can manage._

" _What ? I didn't hear you correctly my dear Jane…or do you not remember the sacrifices I made for you so you could be here right now ?" He seems amused by this game. By his position. And his ascendancy over you. He walks. Standing in front of you. His face. His breath is steady. Dangerous. A few inches from you. "The next time I see you, you better be happy and thankful my Jane." He says as he advances his hand to caress your cheek with a crooked smile._

 _You try to slow your cardiac rhythm. Do not tremble. Don't show fear. Don't shiver. Grit your teeth. Set your jaw. Straight. Look at him. And stay. Up. Strong. In front of him._

 _When he's finally gone, you turn to the RD10 TDI and mutter what you wish you could have the courage to scream at him. "I will kill you one day Mr. Hoyt."_

This awful memory forces you to wake up totally. It's so painful to be back there. Living this scene again. Like he's alive. Still. This memory. Buried deep. It hits you in your whole being. It has been so long since you last dreamed of him. You force yourself to leave this useless situation. You force yourself to open your eyes. It hurts. The light is too bright. Your throat in on fire. Your lungs are on fire. You know that it's going to be so painful to try to speak. But you have to do it. Because, as you start to fully regain consciousness, you spot your mother next to you. In what seems to be a hospital chair, where she has dozed off. But this is your first step. This is your beginning all over again. And you have to do it.

"Ma…."

This only syllabus is enough to draw her attention. You see her open her eyes. And the gratefulness you see in them tell you everything you need to know.

She's up and hovering you the next second.

"Oh Janie, darling…"

* * *

You aren't paying attention as your mother is rambling about what happened. You are still somewhere else. Between your nightmare and your awakening when your eyes catches the unmistakable face of Maura. At your door. Behind the glass. You're not entirely sure if she's real or if this is an illusion. A sick trick. And you're so afraid that she will disappear that you cut off your mother sharply.

"Ma ! Enough, enough."

She quiets and then you tentatively make a small sign with your hand. Hoping with all your being that Maura will see. And understand. That you need her in this room. With you.

Your mother follows your gesture to the door. And she's up on her feet before you can tell her anything.

"Doctor Isles, come in. Jane's awake."

Maura seems hesitant but manage a small smile before passing your mother holding the door.

The fact that your mother excuses herself to leave the two of you alone is very strange. Out of character. But you don't question it. Because it means that you can be alone. With Maura.

She's standing at the end of your bed. In that awful room. With terrible lights. In your eyes, she's stunning. Maybe it's the relief to see her here. Alive. Breathing. You study her. Checking, observing her. You're so engrossed by the fact that she's in one piece that you don't register the shadows under her eyes right away. You're happy. Content. Overwhelmed.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN : A big thank you to all of you. Thanks to my beta, LoveIsles.**

 **Italics refers to the past (near or far).**

* * *

After a few seconds, alone with Maura, you really look at her. And what you see breaks you inside. The physical pain seems like nothing compared to the dark cloud entering your mind and your chest. You want to bury yourself for what you're putting her through. She's crying. Tears running down her cheeks. She doesn't try to wipe them away.

All the sudden, she seems small. So small. Nothing like the powerful woman she usually is. She is pale. And she looks fragile. Knowing that you may be the cause of all that fills you with shame. The same shame you've felt so many times. You're out of place. Here. With her. You don't understand why someone like her would want someone like you.

She doesn't come near you. Doesn't reach for you. There is a tension. A feeling that you can't define. You're blocked. In this bed. Your body is suffering. And you try to prepare yourself for the worst. You list all the excuses you know. You get ready to hear her say that she doesn't want to see you. Ever. Again. This time, you're sure it's going to happen.

Instead, it's the complete opposite that occurs. Before you can react or say anything. Maura is at your side. Carefully holding your left hand with her right one. And passing her left arm behind your neck. Resting it on your shoulders. Her forehead on your neck. Everything is quiet. Time's stands still. And then, she sighs. A deep, meaningful sigh. It's like you're breathing again. Together. And you're sure that it's reality. Maura has this power. To ground you. To calm you. It's the first time that your hands are bare. Exposed. Like yourself. But you don't try to cover them. Instead, you lean in. As much as you can. You hold onto her. Like a promise. Of a better tomorrow. And you want to believe that. So much. And forever. If you're allowed to dream.

Her embrace don't last enough. But considering how much you're sore and hurt, it's better than anything. She detaches herself from you. Choosing to sit on the bed. It may not be very comfortable but she's with you. You're sharing space. As little as it is. And she's still holding your hand. She starts caressing your cheek. And you let her. Because it's the best medicine you know. Her touch can heal you. Her voice also heals you. Even if it's nothing more than a whisper. Entangled with sobs and tears.

"Oh Jane. I'm so glad that you're awake. I was so worried. And I'm sorry…So, so sorry." She starts. But you frown and stop her.

"Maura, I'm the one that should be apologizing…"

It's her time to frown. And she interrupts you before you can finish.

"No, I'm sorry. And I'm the only one apologizing. To you." She pauses. Regaining courage, she looks at you. This time, her tone is more steady. Firm.

"I'm sorry I insisted that you to come with me to the gala." She weeps. "I didn't know that Ga…Garret would be here. Most of all, I'm sorry that he put you in that hospital bed."

She's blaming herself and you've found yourself falling a little more.

"Maura, you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't know that he was going to be here. Even less that he was so angry at you that he would try to shoot you." You pause. "I'm glad I decided to come after all. So that you're not in this bed…" Or worse you think.

This time, her hug is fierce. Almost violent. Like she wants to take you all in. She sobs. Continues to cry on your shoulder. But it's more like a lullaby to you. And the meds are so powerful that you drift to sleep again. Holding onto Maura. Hoping she will be there the next time you wake up. Because you want to say so many things to her.

* * *

The following week in the hospital provides nothing new. But it increases your angst. Your frustration. To a level you doubt you've ever felt. Even if you're too familiar with hospitals. You don't like it. You feel weak. Vulnerable. Exposed. And those feelings reinforce your insecurities. You have trust issues. You knew that before. You were careful. Of everyone. Of everything. When it comes to trusting anyone, it's something almost impossible. But, somewhere in that major aspect of your personality, Maura has made her way in. You don't know how. Or when. But she has. Maura understands. Without having to tell her. What or how you feel. It's written. On your face. In your movements. It's engraved in your way of looking. Speaking. Avoiding. You've been here before. And you're here now. This place. Dark. And again, you start questioning everything. Everyone. Motives. Gestures.

Maura is the best. She does everything. She pulls every strings she knows. She got you a private room. She pacifies your interaction with your Ma. She supports you. She eclipses herself when your brothers come to visit. She insists that you eat. That you sleep. She's careful you do not overdo anything. She's remarkable. But you're incapable of seeing her dedication as extraordinary. You find everything annoying. You're grumpy. Uncomfortable with all the attention. Caring about nothing. Unpleasant with everybody. Even with Frost when he comes.

* * *

Your bad attitude finally pays off. Your doubts have taken the best of you. Your insecurities. Your shame of yourself. You did a great job. At pushing her away like that. Making her disappear. Making sure, this time, she wouldn't want to see you ever again. Your defense mechanism is victorious. It had the power of inflecting all that to yourself. Then to her. It's so hurtful. For everybody. It doesn't do any good. And it never will. You know perfectly all that. But you can't help yourself.

And now, you want to scream. To tear everything apart. But most of all you want to forget. To erase your memories.

 _Maura enters the room. And like yesterday, you're irritable. Mean. Without reason._

" _Jane, I know it may be a little too soon since you'll only be discharge in a couple of days but I have a proposition for you." Maura said, calmly._

" _What is it ?" You respond, already grumping and mumbling._

" _I was thinking that maybe you can come to my home for your recovery." She pauses. Waiting for a reaction but when you say nothing, she continue. "I think it will be easier for the both of us. I'll be able to take care of you. Elison and Carol will be here during the day to assist you with anything you might need. And I will see you at night. This way, you'll be taken care of and I will worry less about you. It might also relieve your mother. To know that you're not alone all day and night."_

 _You're angry. With what she's implying. That last part alone is enough to irritate you. So much._

" _I can take care of myself Maura. I don't remember you being here the last time I was injured. I did great, all by myself. I can be on my own." You said harshly, emphasizing the last part. You're not a child. You don't need help. And you certainly don't need a second mother._

 _She's does not react right away. But your bad disposition toward her may have worked. She stands. Resolute. Determined. Before saying, with a cold and distant voice: "Because you are physically suffering, it doesn't give you the right to snap and be mean to everybody Jane. I've seen and heard enough. Good luck with everything."_

 _She storms out of the room. And that's the last word you hear from her._


	12. Chapter 12

**AN : Thank you everybody for everything. A big thank you to LoveIsles.**

* * *

Friday night. Four days later. True to his word, your doctor has released you. You were emotionless. Your mother came to the hospital. She has helped you. Driving you to your place. She has made sure you had everything you needed. That included filling your freezer with cooked meals. After that, she has excused herself and left you.

Now, your apartment is dark. Like your thoughts. You doubt you can live here anymore. It's related to too many situations. Good or bad. It doesn't matter. You just must move. Forward. Somewhere. Anywhere will be better. And you don't understand why you did this to yourself. You even refused to go to your mother's place when she offered you the possibility. You insisted on coming here. Stubborn. Alone. Of course. Now you feel trapped.

You can pretend all you want. You can tell yourself everything you want. Under your grave airs. And frowned eyebrows. It's not worth it. You can lie. To whoever you want. But even behind your mask. You're not fooling anyone.

You miss her. More than you could know. It's like something cruel is running in your veins. In your body. You try to chase it away. But the feeling of what you've lost is everywhere. You're alone. Really. And it hits you. Hard. You realize that you're alone. In a small, creepy apartment. And self-pity will get you nowhere.

This is crazy. All the sudden, you're sad enough to cry. It's been too long and your body just need the relief. So, you let go. And just for a moment, you feel safe again, like nothing happened. Tears run down your cheeks. It's the most beautiful thing you've seen in a while. The scariest also. You must be strong. You can't let go. But right now, nothing matters. You're crying and your heart is pumping through your veins. You feel it. In your brain. You're in a bliss. A peaceful bliss. And you cry more. Like it's possible. Because you can't imagine not seeing her again. Because you felt it. She must be here. For you. Your saving grace.

* * *

The loud knocking on the door makes you growl. You know too well who it is. You don't want to open it. Not at any cost. It's Sunday afternoon and you have barely left your living room since Friday. Haunting. Pacing. Fumbling around. Trying to find something that would hold your attention for more than two minutes. Clearly, you've failed at that too. You hear the second knocking. You don't have any excuses. Plus, your visitor is going to enter. Whether you like it or not. You might as well open the door before that happens.

Your mother greets you. Then, silence fills the room. She glances around her. With a depreciative look. You don't care. You go to the kitchen.

"Do you want something to drink Ma ?"

Your mother approaches. Sits on a chair next to the counter. She knows your habits.

"If you have some tea, that would be great. Thanks."

Silence. Again. Before the storm.

"So, how have you been Janie ? How do you feel ?"

You don't want to make small talk. You don't have the patience. You don't respond. You prefer to lock yourself in silence. You don't have the energy. The courage. To accept it in front of your mother. You're not fine. Far from it. Your look. The way you move yourself. Everything indicates it. You don't have the strength to verbalize it. You're not going to make any effort. Right now, you don't see the point.

Resigned, your mother stands. The water is not boiling yet. She walks to the door. Her hand is on the doorknob. She turns to look at you. One more time. With watery eyes.

"You can't keep on pushing people away Jane. With family, we can almost understand. But with people who seems to have such a positive effect on you. Especially when it's been so long since we saw you more open and free." She sights. "And I'm talking about Doctor Isles."

Your mother strikes. Right in. Where it hurts.

"We are still having family dinner at my apartment tonight. So, I'll see you in two hours Janie."

After that, she disappears.

You're left with hot water. And a mug of tea. You're going to drink it. Without any joy.

* * *

The return to the garage feels like a huge step back. Because it is. The door was never closed for you. But coming back. So soon. At least, you can find some peace. After a week of turning, tossing, tormenting. You had to get out there. And, here you are. Working on sports cars. Whenever you want. But, deep down, you know. This isn't what you want. This isn't where you want to be. This isn't who you want to be. This isn't you anymore. You don't need that help anymore. You've been there. You've done that. You believed that you had move on.

You crave something else. Contact. Interaction. Something you never knew you could miss this much. You made a friend with Frost. You made amical conversation with Britany. Carol. Even Elison sometimes. Now you're here. And the need for the solitude that you once longed for feels like a brutal step back.

You're exhausted. Spent. Empty. This first day holds its promises. Only it's not enough. You need to forget. To leave everything behind. With all the speed you can. Speeding to the limit. Behind the wheel of the MP4-12C GT3. You try. As hard as you can. The belt is pressing to your chest. Over your heart. Pushing you. Hard. With an extreme force. In the curves of the circuit, your head weighs two times its normal weight. But you don't decelerate. You push. Your body. Yourself. It's only when you're feeling on the edge of fainting that you slow down. Go back to the stall. Take your time to breathe again. With long and deep inspirations.

When you come back to your place, you're not sleepy. The cold. The thirst. The hunger. You have everything. But you're not sleepy. Your roof. Your work. Your car. You have everything. But you're not sleepy. So, the routine is what's keeping you sane. Other than the crazy hours, there is nothing. You bury yourself in work. Or maybe, you bury yourself. Short. Literally.

* * *

One day, there is a note. Stuck on your front door. With your name on it. _Jane_. Four letters. A curvy handwriting. The first glance is enough. Maura. You didn't think you could do this long without having news from her. And here it is. The first sign.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN : A very big thank you to LoveIsles and to all of you for eveything (reviews, follows, favorites).**

* * *

Her letter is on you. In the pocket of your shirt. Under your work overalls. Three weeks. Everyday. It doesn't leave you. It's a form of surrogate. Of Maura. The paper. The envelope. Her writing. You carry it around. Paradoxically, it doesn't weigh on your mood. On the contrary. This tiny piece of paper has lightened your day. Her words. Her sentences. Carved in your heart. Your mind. It may seems so little. But it's worth everything. Even if you have been a mess for a few nights.

" _Jane,_

 _As you may have noticed, I interact with a lot of people for my work and I don't have any issues with that. I am a professional, great at running the Isles Foundation and Vincent is always by my side. It is a very demanding job, but it satisfies me. Apart from that, I am a lonely person that relies on routine and impartiality regarding my work._

 _You must know that I'm not the most perfect at reading people and, most of the time, social interactions are difficult for me to understand. I prefer the comfort of numbers and facts rather than interactions with other human beings. I find it more solid, trusty and most importantly, it is less disappointing._

 _This is why I refuse to pretend that I don't like you. I can't conceive not seeing you ever again. I can't allow myself to forget what you and I shared. I know you felt it too. It is hard for me to imagine that there is a link, a connection that I felt right away with you. Because it's not rational, it's not based on facts and I barely know you. But I have to trust the evidence. It is obvious, even to myself._

 _I am sorry if I pushed you too hard. I am sorry if you felt trapped by my proposition during your stay at the hospital. I am sorry that you wouldn't allow me to understand what you were going through. I am sorry to not have the courage to talk to you more directly about all this. But, please, rest reassured that I'll be there for you if you need anything. And that I find myself thinking about you. More than I should._

 _I miss you Jane. Immensely._

 _Love,_

 _Maura"_

* * *

Sometimes, when you have a flash of it, your throat constricts. Your lips. Your mouth. They become dry. Bone-dry. For one second, if you're not careful enough, you could crumble. To the ground. And lose yourself in your own tears. Of guilt. Because this woman. This woman. Has apologized to you. And you're the one who ruined this. Whatever it was. And you don't know how you're going to make things right. You want to. So much. But you don't know how. That makes your guilt grow in your stomach.

Until one evening. There is a knock on your door. Not the kind that you can identify. So, you're careful. Peeking through the peephole, you relax immediately. It's Frost. With a pizza box. And when you open the door, you see that he has also brought a gallon of ice cream.

When you open the door, you both know. His eyes and his smile tells you everything. His kindness is reflected on his face and his moves. And you know he hasn't lost his sense of humor.

"Hey tiny bones ! It's been a while…and since I didn't know if you were eating properly, I'm here to make sure you'll try THE best pizza in the whole world !"

"Hey Frost. It's nice to see you too and since you're bribing me with pizza, come on in. Make yourself comfortable" you say as you close the door behind him.

Frost rapidly takes in his surroundings and goes right for the couch. You let him sit and you go to the kitchen. Retrieving two cans of Coke in your refrigerator, you come back to the living room with the drink. You sit down next to him. There is a long silence. Not awkward. Not tense. Just silence. As the two of you reflects on what to say.

Frost beats you and speaks first again : "Let's eat, we can't afford to eat this master piece cold."

After a few "hmm" and nods of appreciations, he knows that he has strikes right for you. And, as you are full now, you find yourself ready. To talk to him. To be honest. Sincere. To lift a little of the burden currently sitting in your shoulders and stomach.

"Frost, I'm sorry that I left the way I did. And please accept my apologies as I didn't even say goodbye. It was childish. And uncalled-for. I…I…" you struggle to get to the main point. To talk about her. The way you treated her. Words are stuck. You are stuck.

He doesn't ask any questions. You're sure he has understood a lot of things. He is so brilliant. With his great perception, he knew. Everything. From the start. So, he just starts to speak. And he jumps right there :

"She's not the same Jane. I know that she is a lonely soul but she has changed. Actually, she has changed two times. The first was when you started working for her. You see, I've been working for the Isles Foundation for almost five years. And, during this time, she was never more than a highly hardworking and highly successful woman. But, there was always this space, this way of distancing herself from people, of preferring solitude. She wasn't trying to hurt anyone feelings, she was just like this with everyone. Except for Korsak. To the extent that people, from work and outside, started to call her names. And, you know better than me how it works. At one point, it came back to her."

He pauses. Long enough for you to stand up. Going to the kitchen and coming back with two glasses of water. The stretching of your legs very welcomed. When you're sitting back, he continues :

"I saw her, trying to understand. Really hard. Trying to gauge everyone reaction during interactions. I saw, how this intelligent, even genius woman, tried to find where she had failed. For days and weeks. Then, one day, it must have been three or four weeks, she came to the office and has completely shut down. She withdraws into herself even more if this is even possible."

You can't help the water starting to pool in your eyes. Nor the tears that falls after that. Frost puts his hand on your thigh. For comfort. Because you know he's going to continue. You need to hear it. All of it.

"I don't know what caused it but I saw it happened. And it was like this until you came into her life. I might be the only one, beside Korsak, who saw the subtle changes. That was the first time that I noticed an actual change. An involuntary one. Because she's so great at compartmentalizing her life but I witnessed it. She became more open, more outgoing. Not demonstrative but her way of acting when you were around was different. Less reserved and inhibited. I don't know how you made that happen or what the two of you shared but there was a change. She had these sparkles, somewhere, ready to be out and you managed to make that visible again. Something hidden for years."

He pauses again. You're a real mess now. Your eyes are puffy. Your chicks are wet. Your nose is flowing. Frost takes a pack of tissue out of his pocket. He hands it to you and says, grinning :

"Precautionary measure ! I thought you might need them…"

You offer a weak smile and thank him for the tissue. You brace yourself for the following.

"The second time I saw her change and retreat into her older self was when you didn't come back."

This sentence alone crushes you. It destroys everything. You're bare. Suffering from head to toes. And you're glad that it's happening here. That Frost is here. To hold you tight. As you sob uncontrollably for so long that your head hurts.

* * *

You wake up with a heavy migraine. And disoriented because you're on your couch with a blanket on you. Frost is sitting in the chair. In front of you. You exhale loudly for a few seconds. Taking deep breaths as memories comes back to you.

"Seems like I drained you. I'm sorry Jane. I shouldn't have…" He starts. But you're quick enough to stop him right away.

"No, no Frost. You have nothing to be sorry for. If anything, I'm the one who needs to apologize. Again. I needed to hear all that. I needed that help. Even if it looks more like a giant slap in the face right now. So, thank you. For everything."

You try to stand but Frost stops you. He guides you to sit back on the couch.

"You might want to go slow enough to avoid fainting. You were out for almost fifty minutes. So, take your time Miss Skinny Tinny." He tells you while winking at you.

"Thanks Frost. For taking care of me."

"You're welcome Jane."

Then, he adds : "You know, it's going to be alright Jane. Everything is going to be alright."


	14. Chapter 14

**AN :** **I'm really grateful for all of you : faithful readers, followers, reviewers and 'favorites'. Thank you very much. A special thanks to LoveIsles for beta-ing my story.**

* * *

It had taken you time to get through it but here you are: in front of her door. Back at the beginning. You are where you thought you'd never be coming again. But all of this is real. And it starts again. Few footsteps and you'll be discovering who you are. These few meters. Hardest part of your life. Because they represent everything. All the way going forward and all the way backing up. Every time you've fallen worse into the dark. For a second you don't know if you will go or wait here. This point. Right here. Under your feet. This is the only one where you feel safe. It doesn't mean anything. You don't move. You don't risk moving forward or backward. There is no compromise here, no efforts.

You have the sensation that you're facing yourself for the last time. That you'll never be able to have memories of anything concerning your past. You wonder if it will start again. If life is this circle. This unrecognizable circle. You're at her door.

After you've knocked, you wonder if she's going to open it. You came at night. For the dark. And because nobody stays after midnight. You'll be with only her.

Seconds weigh down. Overlong. Interminable. Dragging on. And on.

Until the piercing sound of the door being openned.

"Take me into your arms." Your voice is weak. Pleading. Your eyes are down. Your chin on your chest. All the journey leading to this moment seems like nothing. Because this, right now, could be your breaking point. Your end. You're broken. Everywhere. But you still call out her name.

"Maura."

And she's kissing you. Like there is no tomorrow. Fiercely. With all her soul. Her force. All her tears. All her forgiveness. She finds your hands. Linking her fingers with yours. And you're home. With her.

* * *

The light is bright. Your environment new. You're in a foreign bed. The only reassurance you find is her perfume. In the room. Unique. Magnificent. Out of reflex, you start to massage your hands. To remove the tension in them. And elsewhere. Your heart. Your head. Little circles. Trying to appease your blood. Beating everywhere in your body. You're alive. Fully dressed. On her bed. The last thing you remember is her face. As you were feeling sleepy. Drifting. Facing her. Engraving her image in your head. Silently praying that she will not disappear during the night.

Now, you need to be confident. One more time, it's easier to think about it than it is to act. When you find enough strength to stand up and start exploring the house, the smell of coffee hits your senses immediately. You're guide to the only room you know might hold the black treasure. And you find it rather easily considering you've never been in the entire house before. Since there is no sound, you fidget. You're not at your place. You don't know if serving yourself could be considered as rude. Or impolite. Strangely, there is no sign of Carol this morning. You're glad for that. Right now, you don't know how you might handle the situation. But it doesn't give you any indications of what to do. The coffee is in the pot. Warm. Inviting.

You're meandering around the house when you spot her. During a few seconds, you're glued to the spot. She's on the couch. Her legs on the side. Tucked under her. She's in the same satin pajamas as yesterday evening. Her hair is loose. She looks concentrate. Absorbed. She's reading. Some journal it appears. And _Oh my !_ She has glasses on. Some fucking sexy glasses on. And just like that, you're boiling inside.

As you enter the room, she looks up. You almost drop the cup that you're holding. She's breathtaking. But right now, she's at another level of beauty.

"I see you found the fountain of youth…" Her voice is filled with laughter. She's smiling at you. And you're not sure you'll be able to talk. Ever again. This sight. She is such an exquisite vision.

* * *

The Mercedes-Benz 300 SL whirrs on the road. It purrs like a feral cat. The sound is lyrical. Stunning. The woman by your side makes this moment spectacular. Because Maura, behind the wheel, is laughing uproariously. And you can't help yourself. You extend your left arm to place your hand on her neck. You feel the wind at the base of her neck. It's light. Your thumb is making small circles behind her ear. You have a flash of yourself. Thirty years from now. In the same car. With gray hair. A few more wrinkles. Age spots. But the same lightness. The same desire to be with her. To feel her. Under the caress of your fingertips.

This unexpected road trip is exactly what you need. You wouldn't want to be anywhere else. You're thankful that Maura had proposed this idea. After your second cup of coffee, she had suggested the two of you go out. To enjoy the day and the sun bathing everything.

Now, you're moving forward. At the whim of kilometers. You don't care. You can go on. Forever here. Forever alive. Time stands still. The more Maura is driving, the more you leave behind. It's like emptying your bag. All of the negativity surrounding you for so long. Letting it go on the road. Behind. Going as fast as you can to your future. And when the Winnipesaukee's lake unfolds in front of you, it is the peak of your inner journey. You won't look back. You make this promise to yourself. The last one. As you exit the car, you practically run to Maura. To take her out of the car. You want to make it quick. To take Maura's hand. To mark this occasion. To act signing this pact with yourself. You're in a hurry. To start walking around the lake. With Maura by your side. Together. Hands interleaved.

* * *

"At first, I felt like I was not enough for you. Like I didn't try hard enough. And you didn't give me any news. Or indications of what was going on for you. But I wasn't giving up. Because I believed we could make it." After a deep sigh, Maura finally complete her statement "I knew nobody else could replace you. You were the one that I wanted. I couldn't understand why. Couldn't define what we have. What we were. I still can't. But now, I know. That I'll be here. Even when you forgot who you were, what we had together. I'll be here to help you remember. Anytime. Anywhere. I know, you and I, we are once in a lifetime lovers."

Your fingertips are travelling on her skin. Where it can't lie. Your hands are bare. Nothing is covering them. You feel free. The way you're holding her. Tight. You're going to sleep all through the night like this. Until the morning. It doesn't lie. Doesn't hide somewhere dark. It's pure. Blissful. It doesn't mean everything is settled. Far from it. But for now. These seconds. These minutes. Hours. It will do. You're relieved. You still can't believe what happened in the last 24 hours. You're not dreaming. Even though the woman of you dream is right here. With you. Nestled. Curled up in your arms.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN : Thank you for your patience. And thanks to LoveIsles.**

* * *

Her beauty makes your heart race. Lips slightly open. Slow. Rhythmic breathing. Cheeks a little pink. Eyes closed. Freckles. Messy hair. Sprayed everywhere. She looks like a painting. A dream. You can't look elsewhere. Your eyes are fixed on her. On her being. Flawless. Immaculate. You take all of her. She is your present. Maura. She's always so put together. So impeccable. And there, right now, she seems so carefree. So innocent. Sleeping. Peacefully. Perfect.

She's going to be your future. You've never been so sure about anything in your entire life. But you're certain about it.

As strange as it is, you have find a rhythm. You. With Maura. You manage to see each other at least once a day. Even if it's just for a coffee. You adjust your schedule since hers is a little bit less flexible.

This routine. At one time in your life, you dreaded it. So much. You couldn't stand it. Today is different. It's satisfying. Soothing. It flows. Easily.

Since you spent the night, this morning, you get up very early. Silently. Going to the kitchen. It's been a few minutes. You're in the front of the coffee machine. Trying to figure out how it works. Wracking your brain. Then, you feel two arms enveloping you from behind. And a little chuckle, that you know is showing her dimples. Even if you can't see her. Yet.

"I know for a fact that you're very talented with your fingers since you have such a capacity for fixing cars. Or other matters for all I know…" She says, as she makes you turn around in her arms. She's eye level to your collarbone. That she kisses lightly. "But, I need to make sure that you can also find your way with the coffee maker even if I'll be a little jealous…" She continue as she props her eyebrows up.

Her presence. Her smell. Her lightness. The coffee is long forgotten. And before she can show you anything regarding the coffee machine, you kiss her. Fiercely. In the middle of the kitchen. At 6.23 in the morning.

The paradoxical feeling. Of leaving her behind. This morning. The need to be close to her. As well as the need to be alone. Before you left, you asked her out. The night after tomorrow, you're going to see her. Have her the whole night. And you're going to tell her your story. Every single detail of it. Emptying your tank. Once and for all. She has the right to hear it. From you. Then, she'll have all the cards. You can move on. Or not. You'll see.

* * *

You're waiting for her. In the private parking area. You made arrangements with Frost. Since you're not driving her, you know that he's filling the position whenever he can. You're waiting for her. And the sight of the brand new Abarth 124 Spider does nothing to calm your nerves. You're like the symbol of the car. The scorpion. Half red. Half yellow. You're excited by the prospect of this night with Maura. You can't but also feel anxious.

Since you don't want to scare her, you're waiting in front of the car. The keys are in your vest pocket. You try to look cool. Relax. Like it's the most common thing for you to come wait for her. And when the elevator dings, indicating the imminent opening of the door, you know that you don't look cool. At all.

First you see her shoes. So high. Heels. You freeze. Mesmerized by the scene. Of Maura. Walking. But that walk. On those shoes. With those calves. And, God help you, you can't restrain yourself from looking at her legs. Your eyes going up. Taking in everything she is. Absolutely magnificent legs. The hem of her dress. That will kill you. If you're bold enough to continue the journey across her body. The sound of the heels on the floor stops. And you see that she has stopped. And you can't do anything else. Than scan her. Slowly. Methodically. Going up. Dying a little bit inside as you do. The sweetest death. When you reach her face, she's smiling. Arms crossed against her chest. Waiting. If that dress was your undoing, her eyes are your heaven.

She doesn't speak. Neither do you. She grins at you and makes her way to the car. Passenger door. Making you turn. And look at her back. You're smiling as you quickly open the car for her to get in. And make your way to the driver's door. Behind the wheel.

* * *

As you are waiting for the bread to be ready, you start to fidget. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to take Maura at your place. It's the first time that she's here. And you feel like this situation is completely out of place. That she is out of place. She's accustomed to perfect housing. Perfectly tidy. Perfectly decorated. With taste. Everything in her house – or should you say mansion – is so delicate. Maybe you should have taken her out. But this is your safe place. This is your territory. And you want to be here. When you'll tell her everything. Even if it's not fancy. It's your image. A little messy. But clean. With a lot of pictures. After all, it's welcoming. She doesn't know it but she's the first person that you invited here. Besides your family. And that will do it.

You feel a little lost. When diner is ready. You sense that you should start to speak. At the same time, you don't want to darken the mood. You've both enjoyed the dinner. You're at ease. Maura is relaxing. You know that you have to jump in. Don't think too much. You'll give her your story. You'll have time to deal with whatever will come after.

You are sitting on the couch. Next to each other. Thights touching. You have to jump now. The water is waiting for you. So is she. Sensing the change of atmosphere, she waits for you. Perfectly quiet.

"My career started when I was 11. It may seem young but I'd already started go-karts and quarter midgets for three years before being discovered. I don't know how they did it but they saw something in me. Something worth working and sponsoring. So, for the next six years, I had an adapted schedule at school. I could go to classes in the morning. Then I had training. Depending of the season, it was either inside for physical and mental preparation or outside by racing karts or midgets. At the end of the day, I had two hours of tutoring for class…and it was the worst…" You said chuckling as you remember the long tiring hours with your tutor.

Maura is still silent. Still looking at you like your story is the most interesting thing. As nervous as you are to continue, you know it's necessary.

"At 16, I had my first major contract and I signed with Hoyt Racing team. It was a very big deal. For me. And for my family. 'Cause as you may know, I didn't come from a rich family. And knowing I had already a contract. A job. At least for 7 years. With that amount of money at such a young age. It was incredible. And at that time, I swore to be grateful for that opportunity and to do my best. Even if it meant overdoing it sometimes. But I was 16, young, almost innocent and so hungry for everything that I went into it thoroughly. Without thinking. I gave everything in training. In competitions, I was fearless. It was my life."

You have to pause. Without noticing it, tears have started to pool into your eyes. The knot in your throat is tight. This period of your life has been the most frantic. Frenetic. But it was so exhilarating. You were so happy. So carefree. So light. You miss that sometimes. Life was going on without thinking about it. And reflecting on it makes you nostalgic.

Maura scoots closer. In the most natural way, she takes your hands in hers. And starts to massage them since you were fidgeting. Without noticing it. Again. You let her. Basking in the way she makes you feel. This simple gesture. Meaning so much. Shattering your heart, your feelings, as well as healing them. Altogether. Deep breaths. Focus. Regain your train of thought.

"In 1996, I was 19. It had been 3 years since I started racing in the Championship Auto Racing Teams. Everything was going well. I had made friends with the team. Engineers, technicians, team mates. I had a solid background and a very good year. One of the best since I started racing professionally. My time was calculated. My schedule was tight and I loved it. I loved everything about it. The accelerate heartbeat before the race. The preparation. The control.

"Naturally, 1999 was supposed to be my greatest year. I was mature enough. I had experience. Much more discipline. An incredible number of trials. Repetitions. And I knew racing like no one else. After 3 years in the CART championship, I was finally ready. For the race. The major one. I was 22 and finally offered to race the mythic Indianapolis 500."

Maura knows. You can't start describing what that is. Everybody, with or without any knowledge in racing, knows what this race is. What it represents for driver. The fantastic race. Legendary. For a few minutes, when it's all silence and waiting for you to continue your story, you let yourself feel something you never knew you could feel again. Pride. Without guilt. For this accomplishment. Because you had been invited to this race. One time. In your life.


	16. Chapter 16

**AN : I can't thank you enough for your words and encouragements...they're greatly appreciated. Thanks to my wonderful beta : LoveIsles.**

* * *

 _Previously in the last chapter..._

" _Naturally, 1999 was supposed to be my greatest year. I was mature enough. I had experience. Much more discipline. An incredible number of trials. Repetitions. And I knew racing like no one else. After 3 years in the CART championship, I was finally ready. For the race. The major one. I was 22 and finally offered to race the mythic Indianapolis 500."_

 _Maura knows. You can't start describing what that is. Everybody, with or without any knowledge in racing, knows what this race is. What it represents for driver. The fantastic race. Legendary. For a few minutes, when it's all silence and waiting for you to continue your story, you let yourself feel something you never knew you could feel again. Pride. Without guilt. For this accomplishment. Because you had been invited to this race. One time. In your life._

* * *

"You should know that I was familiar with pressure. I had already received a lot of it. At the beginning of my professional career, it was an ordinary thing. It was something that people close to the big boss did. Mostly about being good enough. About the image I was giving when I was losing. For me, it didn't matter. I worked hard. Knew what I was capable of. Knew what I needed to do when I lost a race. I didn't pay much attention to this pressure. I presumed it was normal. The usual for professional athletes."

"I became aware of the fact that pressure didn't affect any of my practice partners. Since I was surrounded only by male partners, I started to notice the change of behavior toward me. It escalated pretty slowly. But surely, after a few months, pressures became threats. After practice, after races. It didn't matter. I had men in suits coming. Trying to impress me. To pressure me. They were very open regarding whom those warnings were coming from. The great, grand and big boss. As time went by and I didn't listen to them, I started receiving more specific threats. Until, one day, it was Hoyt himself that came to me."

The mere mention of him and this first encounter since you had signed your contract makes you flinch. Remembering his face. His words. His intimidation. You have to breathe slowly. In order to continue.

"It was the first visit of a dozen more. After the third one, I couldn't help but notice the changes. He wasn't only coming to threaten me. It was like he was becoming obsessed with me. His sentences. His gestures. Everything he did was deliberate to make me feel uncomfortable. And it worked. Weeks passed. I became more and more frightened by him. I was losing sleep. Concentration. I saw him everywhere. Lurking. Waiting. Hidden. Even when it was not the case. He succeed at getting in my head. So much that I wasn't able to concentrate as much as I used to."

Admitting that he had succeeded in his task. Making you weak. Always on your guard. That you felt like his pray. The more he came closer, the less you could see a solution to escape. It takes all your power to continue your story telling.

"So, 1999 was also the year I ended racing."

There, the truth seems less fatal that it had been that day. However the reminiscence of it makes you cringe. Maura is still by your side. She's still holding your hand. Sensing that you probably need more, she placed one of her arm on your back. Caresses your neck. At the base of your hair. Small circles. Smoothing. Encouraging. You know she's here. Physically. But you also know that she's entirely here. All being. Soul. Mind.

"I was preparing for the 500. We had just 10 days to make the last fine-tuning. On the car. On the motor. I was working nonstop. Focused on the task. Trying to forget everything that was going on. Until this morning. I was working in the mechanic workshop. I had one minor thing to adjust. On the pedalboard. When I stood back up, he was here. I didn't see or hear him coming. The surprise of his presence had my heart skyrocket. And when I saw his eyes, I knew that something bad was going to happen. Something unavoidable."

Your mouth is dry. But you need to carry on. Find the strength. And pull it out.

"It happened fast. I didn't have time to react. It was my own screams that made me realize that he had me pinned on the car with scalpels through both of my hands. Screams that the head mechanic heard from the other side of the garage."

You pause. And you can feel that you're not the only one that need to catch your breath. Maura seems shaken. At the verge of crying. You both need a few minutes to regain control. For you it's almost like living it again. As for Maura it's more of apprehending the whole story and digesting it at the same time. You take the opportunity to go make yourself some coffee. And tea for Maura. When you come back, you know that you have to finish. Even if there isn't much more to tell. So you jump in again. For the last part.

"I spent close to one month in the hospital. Then about two more in a rehab facility. I was feeling pathetic. My life was a mess. I didn't have my bearings. Nothing. It seemed like I was floating away. In a fog of something made of pain and disappointment. I was angry. At everything. Everyone. I snapped continually. But, mostly…"

You pause. She's waiting. Again. Not pushing you to tell what you wouldn't want. Just waiting. Patiently.

"I was angry at myself." Telling her that. Accepting this part is the most difficult. It's also the most rewarding. It shows the real strength that you have now. You can describe it. Be objective about it. About your feelings. And it feels good. "I was so angry for letting that happened. How could have I been so blind about everything. It consternated me. Still does. Yet, I'm trying to let time do its job. Trying to let go. It's not easy. Nor joyful. But I'm trying. And I'm not the most patient person in the world…as you may have notice…"

Now, you can see a small smile at the corner of her lips. And in that context, that satisfies you. You want to make sure that she knows what she means to you.

"You're the first one that I've told everything. Like that. Others knows from the news and articles. Obviously, my family knows from bearing with me the whole time. You're the only one I felt the need to tell. To who I wanted to say those things. Those fee…"

"It's 'to whom' Jane" Maura says as she's now openly smiling. You recognize this sparkle in her eyes. Her playful tone. Two can play this game.

"Oh come on Maur', I was talking about my 'not-so-easy-to-talk-about' feelings and you're correcting my English. I'm offended !"

You don't have more time to pretend you're scandalize because she's kissing you. Fiercely. And you gladly oblige this display of affection. Even more after she whispers against your lips "you've given me a nickname and I love that."

* * *

Your story is out. Bare. It has drained you. Overwhelmed the two of you. But what you didn't except was that this sharing made you receive all Maura's cards as well. Because she talked. To you. Has told you her whole story also.

She isn't a fragile little thing. But her life is full of loneliness. Of disappointment. Of deception. Of consciousness of her awkwardness around society. Around people. You didn't discover that since Frost told you so. But hearing her sad tone make you aware of how similar you are on some points.

Now, it feels like the whole deck of cards is layed out in front of you two. You feel like there are three options. Maura can take back her cards and go. You can take back your cards and go. Separate ways. Or, you can mix your cards and make a unique deck of cards. Blending your life. Your baggage.

You don't know how to end this conversation. Since she is still in your living room, you propose to make her a cup of herbal tea. And then, you'll ask her if she wants you to drive her back at her place. You leave for the kitchen and proceed with care. Take two mugs out. The herbal tea. Because it's late and you want to be able to sleep after all. You wait for the water to boil before making the drinks.

When you reenter the living room, Maura is curled up on the couch you just left. She must be as exhausted as you. Emotionally exhausted. Physically worn out. This vision though. Maura. Lips slightly parted. Starting her night on your couch. Completely out of place. Randomly positioned. That's what make you realize that you don't know what to do. The feeling of panic starts to rise. Do you wake her ? Do you let her sleep here ? For a few seconds you're lost. But then, you know exactly what to do. The right thing. So you put the cups on the coffee table. Take Maura's shoes off. And with all the delicacy that you possess, you take her into your arm. Bridal style. You take her to your room. To your bed. Where she's going to be much more comfortable. And not only she is the first one to whom you have told everything but she's also the first one that will sleep in your bed. The matching of those two things is for you the most meaningful.


	17. Chapter 17 (Epilogue Part 1)

**AN : Dear readers, we've come to an end :) This is the first part of a two part epilogue. I never thought I could write as much chapters.**

 **I really want to thank you all for your support. Reviews, favorites, follows : they are heart warming. A very special and BIG thank you to my beta LoveIsles who made each chapter impeccable.**

* * *

"Indeed, this is a beautiful day."

"Ha ! Does that mean that, for once, I was right ?" The chuckle in your voice is evident but Maura wants to play a little longer.

"It means that you are not totally wrong…"

You practically jump on her with an absolute offense look.

"Oh, no no no, Doctor Isles, you're not gonna get out of this so easily !"

But before you can do anything, Maura is up and starts running. Leaving you no choice. _"Damn, you're leaving me no choice but to chase you, Maur' !"_ you whisper before you stand and start running too.

You are breathless but content. So content. And when she's finally secure in your arms, nothing else matters. The picnic is long forgotten. Her laugh fills the air. And you think you could listen to it all day long. It's the most beautiful thing. You are spread out in the grass. Like a starfish. Looking up at the sky. Blue. Slightly cloudy. It puts a big smile on your face. You don't need to turn your head to know that Maura is smiling too. You feel it. From her hand covering yours. Her fingers slightly taping yours. You notice just now that it's been days. Weeks. You don't wear gloves anymore. Your pair are in your closet. Long forgotten. You can't remember when it started. But it's a liberating experience. One you've been waiting for since your first day of recovery.

The sky is blue. With perfect puffy touch of white. You're driving the incredible Cadillac V16 452 Roadster from 1930. Feeling the old leather coating the steering wheel. Caressing it. So smooth. Like an old legend. History under your fingers. The convertible top is off and you can feel the air through your loose hair. It's incredible. Out of time. Like in a movie. Or back in the last century. Maura is radiant. Sitting next to you.

You have decided to continue this day on the beach. To enjoy a long walk by the ocean. One last time. The sand. Without shoes. Getting your feet splashed. Tasting the water. Smiling. Trying to steal pictures of Maura when you think she's not looking.

On the balcony. Your last evening. You have a double glass of cocktail. Two straws. It may be cheesy. Out of character for you. But there, right now, it's pure perfection. Especially with Maura by your side. You wouldn't trade it for anything. The sunset is flamboyant. Sun's burning in the ocean. Blazing. Radiating energy. Heat. A wonderful sight to end a splendid day.

The next morning, as you are loading the car after your check out, you think that this getaway was the most natural thing you've done with anyone in a long time. This expanded weekend was a blessing. For you and Maura. It seems that you have known each other since forever. You can't get enough of her. She's the brightness you've been waiting for all along. The light at the end of the tunnel. With her, you feel invincible. And free. So free.

* * *

You're on the road. You've been driving for almost two hours. You've never thought that Maura would agree to go there with you. When you saw the sign indicating the casino, you couldn't help it. Asked her if she'll come with you. To your great surprise, she's never been in one. Well, she's never gambled anyway. Never saw the interest. The appeal. And you're not even talking about chance. Or luck. You don't dare to bring up the subject. Yet. Even though it will be so much fun to hear her lecturing you about it. You know she will. Everything in due time.

For a few minutes, you two just stand in the entrance. It's a first time for her. With all the machines. Lights. The noise. The music. The frantic push on the spinning button. Bonus. Extra bonus. Everything can be a little too much. Intimidating. And the tension in the place is sometimes palpable. People winning. Loosing. Waiting anxiously for a big win. A changing path.

You stop in front of the roulette game. Eyes fixed on the spinning ball. Passing and brushing all the little boxes. All the numbers. Fumbling. Stumbling. Over and over. Until it stops. On the 23. Red. Odd. This is hypnotizing. Maura come closer. Takes your hand. She seems a little lost. But she eagerly accepts your invitation to sit next to you in a free chair. In front of the roulette. You take 50$. Put it in the machine. Then, you explain the game. And it's time for her to choose her first number.

With 230$ in your pocket, you rush out of the casino. Laughing out loud. Ravish. Complete. You went up to over 250. But when you started going down, you were reasonable enough to stop. A real success. Not only because you won money. Mostly because you spent almost two hours with Maura. Discussing. Arguing. Over the best strategy. Laughing. Waiting perplexingly for the ball to stop on the right number. When you're outside, Maura refuses to split the gain.

"You were the one who put the bill in the machine in the first place. It wouldn't be fair to share the winnings now. Next time I might put in something" she says.

Meaning there will likely be another time. It makes you do a little victory dance. Internally.

"Ok. But since I'm famished, let me invite you to a diner. Then, you'll have had a complete casino experience."

"How will going to eat fast food will make my experience complete ?" Maura asks. So solemnly that you lose your seriousness.

"It isn't required to go eat fast food Maur'. I would love a burger and fries right now. To celebrate our roulette success !" You said exited.

"Jane, you know how unhealthy this food is." she admonishes you. But you know that she can't resist your famous pout. Add up to a shy smile. With your dimple. It's the second jackpot of the night.

You walk a little. Waiting for the right moment. Before turning to climb in the car, you add :

"Maybe I'll also order a milkshake." Knowing very well the offended look she might have. And giggling like a little girl. Because you like to drive her crazy sometime. More than you should. That game has been a favorite between you two.

Since the meal won't cost you 250$, you already have an idea of what you're going to do with the money left over.

* * *

Minutes became days. And the days became months. Before you can even realize it, it's almost a year. A full year. Filled with smiles. Happiness. Of letting go. Accepting who you were. And changing as days go by with Maura by your side. Not everything is settled. You are practically living together already but you still have your apartment. Sometimes you feel out of place with Maura. Her lifestyle. The fact that she has at least three people working for her. That Carol, Elison and even Derek, the new driver, sometimes asks you if you need anything. That makes you want to crawl under the ground. You're not familiar with this. Even though you have money of your own. And that you have managed it since a young age, you're still feeling uncomfortable sometimes.

Maura has entered your life. Your heart. And the heart of your entire family. She's smart. Beautiful. Careful. Sweet. Everybody has adopted her. Without restraint.


	18. Chapter 18 (Epilogue Part 2)

**AN : One year since the beginning. The last chapter. What a journey... Thank you very very much for everything !**

* * *

"Ma, can I have the cars story…please…"

Lucie is looking at you. Her eyes are so fierce. Passionate. You know how much she loves this story. You know that's a way for her to have Maura closer. Like she'll be here. With you three tonight. So it's the right night.

"Yes, sure bug. Go see if Samuel also wants to hear it before going to bed." You see Lucie storming out of her room.

"And you can tell him we'll be waiting on your bed if he wants to join us" you yell as you know she's already trying to drag her older brother from his room.

When she comes back, she crawls on the bed. You watch her. Thinking how much she has grown in the last few months. Real. Little. Toddler. Who would have told you that you would, one day, see your daughter using your leg like a branch, as a monkey would do ? Yes. Your daughter.

Close. Warm. Little body. Nesting next to you. Like mother, like daughter. Putting her left thumb in her mouth. It has become a routine. As the story. When Maura is not here. It's your secret to share. Together.

You're about to start when your son appears in the door frame. Studying. Eying you. And his sister. Deciding where he's going to sit. Next to his sister. Of course. Protecting her. Encircling her. Like mother, like son.

Everybody's ready. Time to start. "When I met your Mama, I had just parked the car I liked back then. Mama, on the other hand, had most of the cars I was dreaming of. Her garage was so full of cars, it was fascinating. And if she had wanted, she could have gotten almost any cars…"

You're waiting for the question you know is going to come.

"How much cars ?" Lucie asks with her little voice.

"Lu, it's not 'how much' but 'how many' cars" Samuel says as he looks down at his sister. She nods. Concentrates. And asks again.

"How many cars Mama had ?" Samuel winks and smile at her. Dimples. Lucie smiles back at him. Big. Proud.

"Actually, there was twenty-four cars in her garage. All different. Year, size, color. Coming from different companies and from all over the world."

"And they were all functional ? Could you drive all of them ?" Samuel demands. Interested. Curious. Of everything. Every time.

"Yes, of course. You know your Mama. All the cars were efficient, well maintained and ready to be driven at any time. However, at the beginning, I was only driving recent cars. In fact I was Mama's professional driver."

"Oh" Lucie whispers. This part always seems to surprise her. She's exited. And concerned at the same time. For her, you're like a super hero. Racing. Driving. Fast. So fast.

"Yes, kiddo, she needed someone to drive her to work, to her meetings and events. So, that was my job. To make sure she was safe. That she could work in the car when she needed. That she reached her destination at time. And most importantly, for her to arrive at her destination in one piece."

"Because Mama is big ?" Lucie's question makes you smile. You know what she's meaning but you want to play a little with her.

"What are you saying Lu ? That Mama is…fat ?!"

That makes her giggles. As well as Samuel.

"No" she says with an offended look. Firm. Eyes burning. "What I meant is she's…" searching for the right word "…important. She's important so she needs a driver."

Sometimes she's so smart. It's scary. If you haven't lived with her exact replica for the last eight years, you might have run. Because a three years old that smart is scary.

"Exactly bug, she's important. And she needs a driver. But right now, she doesn't have one anymore because…"

You wait for one of them to finish.

"You are still the one driving her to and from work !" Samuel fills in with an enthusiast voice.

"Yes. She still needs to go to work sometimes. So, I'm driving her and I'll go get her as well. But only for pleasure. And because now, I have the car that I really like. And since I'm able to have her in it, my life is complete."

They don't know that you're talking about the SUV. With their children sits in the back. The big safe one. It's not the most beautiful looking car. It doesn't have a fantastic motor but, behind this wheel, you're happy. Confident. Secure. You have a family life now. Sports cars can wait for the weekends.

"I want to hear the rest of the story…" Samuel is pleading you. You know he doesn't have too. You're whipped. So whipped. And so content to be.

"But you know, bugs, what's the point ? To have so many cars and to park them. To use them once in a while ? That's why today, there are only five cars here. Which, by the way, is enough. Like really, really enough for the four of us." You said, emphasizing on this fact. Because it's also a luxury. A big luxury.

"But soon we're going to be five …" Samuel says as he looks past his sister. And extend his hand above her to touch your now pronounce belly. Smiling.

"Right champ', not forgetting the peanut here, we'll be five in three months." You respond as you cover your son's hand. Lucie promptly putting her two hands and covering both of yours.

"So, we'll have a car for everyone" she says, beaming. Ear to ear.

"What I was saying is, that it was nice to have all these cars but it wasn't nice to not be able to share them. This is why, Mama and I made sure that the cars she owns are now in a nice place, for people to see and try them if they want to."

"Ma, Ma, can we go there again?" You hear the excitement in Samuel's voice.

"To the M&J Old Vehicle Museum ?"

"Yes yes yes !" chanting everywhere in the room.

"Of course bugs. But right now, I think it's time for you to….go to sleep."

"Ok." Lucie says, a little disappointed but knowing better than to argue with her mother at this hour.

"Will Mama be here tomorrow morning ? Cause I want to see her." Samuel asks.

"Oh yes" Lucy outbids.

"Of course she will be here. In fact, I'm putting you to sleep and…" you don't have the time to finish.

"…you're going to pick her."

"Yes, exactly. So, time for bed, little monsters."

* * *

Sleepy heads. Little bodies. Under covers. You watch their breath pushed their torso. Up and down.

You take the stairs. Going down. Everything in the house is quiet. You smile at Carol and head to the front door.

You're in the car. Your car. Taking the road you know. By heart. By soul. From days. Nights. Everything in between. Every weather. But you're prudent.

When you're waiting for Maura to get in, you can't help but daydream. A little. Unleash your imagination. Trying to remember her smell. What she was wearing this morning. You're caressing your round belly at the same time. In less than ten minutes, you'll be driving your wife. Home. To your children. And it makes you smile to think about your life. Your road. Your ride.


End file.
